More than a Flick, Less than a Break

There is enough
tension in the wrist
to drive the arm to think.

Strain travels upstream, up-ligament,
to the positions that drag the composition
up and into the light.

Yes, compose,
be composed,
decompose.

And let the letters unfetter the mind 
from the mind and become the kind of mind
that is out of its mind. 

Is there enough
pretension in the fist?
The hand would rather remain

open to the rain
to the pain
to the bane

of wrist resistance.