Is there space left

to push in my page–

to share my thoughts

on such an overcrowded stage?

Is there room

in our text-attacking lives

to find my voice?

Is there any surprise

left?  Any story

that hasn’t been already said?

I could read all my life

and still be over-fed.

There isn’t room for it all.

I block out just to breathe;

and my generation wonders

is there any need

for me?

More music available

than I will ever hear.

More knowledge than I

could ever care to seek.

More roads than I could

hope to take or meet.

More food than I

could ever safely eat.

I’m

SNOWED UNDER

by all that is sweet.

DSH

5/2017