if i am well, well, will i write?
what would that say of all i’ve writ?

oh the noise bubbles in my life
froth that pours so readily

it must it must it must you see
to boil away to clarity

a winding process that stops and starts
must forget its product to touch heart

it may take years lost in making
or less than a second of honest aching

before return to frothy being

A. H / K. H-H (18 March 2019)