Walking Sitting Up

I read that happiness is not an emotion
and that words are destroying our happiness.

Can we have it both ways, a literaturacy
accelerating across a network of nodules,
painting the color of sound in letters,
a minor key for the major project of
how do I live with the world as it is
and my self too.

Consider reconsideration: feeding the plants
the pieces of your heart that you were saving
for your personal self to give to your personal person.

The road is full of nails
but if there are enough of them
you can't feel like a hammer.

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