Again I'm trying to explain how all talk is slippery.

See, I might want to convey one thingfrustration, say

but all that gets conveyed is some other thingragemy hand

coming fast, erratic, menacing.

Who can say how a thing in words turns and flowers like that?

It happens.

Now say I want to say to you happiness.

No motive. Nothing behind it.

Just the awareness of a valve suddenly opened and

happiness!

It's in the lungs, the bones.

But somehow all you hear is I don't need you.

We're in this room, and you're not hearing

how I'm still trying to say this thing to you.

I'll say it again. Here. Happiness.

from All of Us (White Pine Press, 2011).