twang

there's always

a Westward twang

hidden within lines and lines

flurries of a mess of notes

and they are so organized

like a row of neat little rows

or an assembly

of vining vegetation

i forgave myself a thought

because i am learning

and what runs within the vine

accompanies the outer casing

precisely like you sat under

an overwhelming emotional burst

of sap and serpentine

bless the pine

and the crackling oils

how you've accompanied yourself