the advice points to a state,
that, by default, it claims is possible,
but only by implication,
perhaps an asterisk and a tiny disclaimer,
desire for truth,
a tidy switch.
The possibility is an ideal,
a dream object without authentic form —
I can see that —
and yet, still,
I lie here
at the bottom of my dry well
as though I'll never find my way out
if I don't believe in a tidy switch.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.