my mind, its a junkyard; all nooks and crannies and
broken doll parts, bald and rough plastic and flaking paint for eyes, rusted rows of once useful things, no longer shiny, but to let go would be to lose them.
to rustle around in here shows nothing new, it all had to have
gotten here somehow, you know, but to let in others would
be to change things – change? and then how would things be found.
still, there are those places that have never seen the light of mind, I’m guessing, so I wander about on occasion still, down rusted
rows of once useful things, all nooks and crannies and broken
doll parts, bald and rough plastic and flaking paint for eyes, and
hope to find an unfound place and brush the rust away.