— You know those days when you get the mean reds?
— The mean reds? You mean like the blues?
— No. The blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible.
Being alone in body and spirit begets loneliness, and loneliness begets more loneliness.
Let me come in. I won't say anything. I just want to listen... What is it you're saying?
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.