There aren't—exactly
lots
but there
are
some—
times when merely
having already
had
your idea
will still you—when that image,
say, of an idle
and windless
old weather-
vane that once
stirred you—now just
fills you—all the way
up till it
thinks
it might
kill you—and suddenly,
low-
and-behold—already
feels
like it's—oh so much
much
too much more—than enough.
