I cannot write, I have no hands.
Instead I use my feet to gather stones
And pile them together into the form
of miniature mountains…
I have no poems, they bore my mind.
Instead I pick up all the sticks I can find
And join them together into the form
of five fingers…
Because I care
I imagine pointing at the world
with my finger while upon my mountain
tell it, do not linger…
upon the word