I feel the same, a sweet pain somewhere between my stomach and the cloud that is hanging there above the power lines. I feel the same, my feet don’t touch the floor when I walk. I feel the same, but I express it differently. My feelings are prolifically tender, yet quirky and surreal at times. I require a metaphor or a simile. I look for something contempoetic. I look for austere and haikuesque words. I think the moon is out again, but whether it's full or the eclipse colored it red, it does not matter if you are in Denver.