It grows harder and harder to imagine a nonviolent redemption,
a meaningful reparation, and, disinclined to violence,

somewhere between where Disney went wrong and
where Salinger went wrong but not poor enough
to buy a messiah from those who prophet,

I struggle to be compatible,
to smuggle out a poem, nourish to flourish,
escape from a confinement controlled by others,

those who indulge
in inexplicability or
an unseemly obsession
with occupation.

Why do we ask How do you feel?
when what we mean is What do you feel?