where the doorway meets the floor
too many noises to clearly see
where the doorway meets the floor
and when I close my eyes
and bear my teeth
I hear them even more.
a passage of
tangled twine
protecting
collecting
images
and sound around
begin to build up
(filled up)
strings of thought
suffocating memories
in the pull of a knot
reset
some doors swing freely from the floor;
a floating passage cover.
others hug firmly to their grounds;
never dare to hover.
I can not understand the function of the junction to divide
then provide a means to enter
(division justified?)
I often feel that the door
to my room of twisted twine
is big enough to let light in
but small enough to keep me inside.
