Don’t you think it’s like our 2 hands
this inner life and that outer life?
Look down at them – the way they cooperate
nearly the same, but with inseparable dexter and sinistry.
The outer life is a squirrel
busy, frantic, and obsessed with nutty things:
hiding, running, vital, particular.
The inside is pollen
floating, enormous, the forest aware of its breath.
No wonder it seems so often
that I am lost.