& Roo

the well-lived life is not a spectator sport

Thought Loops

My brain is a bird

building a nest 

Gathering up imagination like twigs

Building memories 

    out of make believe

Weaving itself in promiscuous circles


I try

     to stop it. 


"There are no eggs yet

There is no sense in building this


          or here."


It feels like talking to a bird.

   My voice, a fleeting distraction,

A far off whisper in the trees. 


I try

     to slow it down. 


I take away its imagination, 

its make believe,

I focus on what's next.


This nest is ready for no one. 

It will be this way for a while.