Tottering Between Cliffs

when i read a mystery the outside world retreats and my mind enters another dimension where clues and shifty alibis take precedent over real life dramas swirling around outside

when i read poetry metaphors become arabian carpets and transform and open the mundane into revelance

when i read non-fiction, facts envelope me, my shawl of stories, my sense of the universe

when i read the newspapers i fall down a rabbit hole even as i attempt to grasp some shaft of light