unintentional potentiality (20210424)

i reach for words
or maybe just one word
fish around in unmarked boxes
with unknown distributions of letters
potentially making meaning
out of a collection of probabilities
tiles inscribed with ancient symbols
glyphs flickering to life
on glass
fading on paper

but who can own a word
or a meaning
who can mint that coin
that currency of grey matter
and say
–this is new!–

who the hell even wants newness

today the slugs taught me
when they pull in their heads
you can’t tell if they are arriving
or departing

here endeth the lesson