by Perel Lubel, Contributor
This is what is not.
I find myself pinned
against a wall.
It would be a lie to say
that I could never find the words to speak.
Emotions and cognitions and theoretical conditions
spread themselves out
becoming the river
crying and howling, rolling upon the ground.
Expressions of the mind:
that is what I would like to write.
I am not sure what that would entail.
easier to write about what is not, like painting a picture but only coloring in the shadows.
I stand, poised, hand upon hip
while the cigarette’s ash falls onto my shoe.