Do We Need Holes?
risk the border
littoral space—neither land
nor water

so easy to grandstand
assume authority—a purchased view
for what you don’t understand

where’s the line to cross / stew
behind—like a tree on cliff edge
cling to truth

you’re on the wedge
of spring, forsythias’s yellow nerve
its fledgling

yellow the color reserved
for the news: to defame or proclaim
  or caution / this one word

lifts you off the frame

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