I tripped today on a thread I thought I had lost; it stretched
Across the floor white on whiter – thinnest of obstacles.
Under my shoe it slid like existentialism
Smooth but troubling freedom of choice in a soup of
meaninglessness – ideas, politics, philosophy.
By the time I saw it, the end had frayed and split apart
Too many threads to hold together the strongest of seams.
“write a fourteener. Fourteeners can be have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables…”