I have time for freehand explorations
into the cleft between visual semblance
and emotional close-enough reality,
the canyon filled with a roaring stream
of consciousness, I have no time not
to doodle, no time not to pluck pretty
little things out of the summer rain
highway haze and arrange them on
the kitchen table when I get home,
you ask how I have time and that
is my answer, I have time because
I once had my heart broken by
a polysyllable, I have time
because you do not.