7/28/2019 Thus Spoke Pinocchio

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Thus spoke Pinocchio

I believe my myriad leaves

became words, each poised

to find a truth

as quickly lost as the green shootplummeting into the universe

constructed from my new mind.

My hands touched objects,

made them more real

than a trees leaf ever will.

Some nights I remember

branches rubbing like skin

against the window pane.

Movement is the greatest joy,when lonely it allows me

to find a new landscape;

new space for the words

falling as easily as amber leaves

in autumns forgetful rain.

7/28/2019 Thus Spoke Pinocchio

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