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