Tuesday, June 25, 2024


We're too fond 
of saying "rhyme 
or reason," 

as if 
those were the 
only two options,

when in truth, 
most feelings don't push 
either of those buttons. 

Most of the time, 
our deepest 
thoughts are not catchy; 

they neither instruct 
nor arrange themselves 
like seasons. 

We simply hear 
a mad blitz of phrases 

or helplessly watch 
as each image 
swims away—

another iridescent fish 
gliding deep 

through our mind's 
silent trenches, 
out of reach—

barely even 

that a third 
and more gripping kind 
of mattering is happening—

that perhaps
feeling, at its purest, 
neither needs 

to entertain
nor teach.