Oh soul,
animate me—
a dream-dipped
yapping sock-puppet.
Release me,

let me triangulate
today’s truth,
the good work,
the years spent
on penance-worn knees—
finding out what's wrong with me.

I have inferences
from what the visible does—
it's in the nature of things
to appear to be—
but since I can’t remember
all I see, daily life requires
a fair sum of make-believe.