neat tiers of books
huge flocks of words
captured and corralled
in such a way
that you begin to think
but step out the door.
words do not flit through the air
words do not squirt through the ground
things and non-things slither and pulse
neither directed nor truly described
by our most perfect sentences.
the best we can do: just touch, wonder
and keep writing
*Copyright 2010 by Luther Allen. This poem appears in The View from Lummi Island.