by Anna Leahy
He thinks himself half empty and fills himself with yearnings. In no time, he cannot see too far into himself, so full he is, so dull and busy. Ego and insecurity become mere knapsacks to pack with appropriate assets of adequate size and weight. Hauling them coils his perceived burden into comfort. It’s a balancing act. [ In a balanced reaction, mass and charge remain the same before and after, then and now. But only if you have enough of whatever’s there and not too much. ] He’s skipping along with his unified self. He’s a binary thinker. He pulls something out of the overnight bag, holds it in the hand to dazzle. [ Dazzle once meant to be confused. ] He watches confidence and fear like quick sticks making sparkles, glimmering specks rising like pinpricks.