the hideout of a critical mind
maybe is over-griping on details.
it produces the fragrance of hauntings,
has needs to sniff the tea
before the action of sipping occurs.
there is the fragrance of first thoughts
before any other sense is implied.
the critical mind has its own intoxicants
as essentials and instigators of its needs.
maybe there,
maybe right there is a lightness of being,
before the thunder
as if it were the cough of rolling congestion.
and then that force,
as if it is a consuming enterprise that occurs.
maybe there,
maybe specifically and especially there,
critical mind is only a one hair brush
working with breath
before any actuality as contact
with another light-hearted of substance
as if the initial inward murmur of a first kiss
is all that was ever wanted
oh and that thunder,
that was only all about
the forbearance of yearning
for straight away . . .
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