I am a broad, tall mountain
or mountains for that matter
plain, of course, but gathered round many like me
or a canyon, wide and deep,
hollow, of course, but adorned with whimsy weeds and pleasant pheasants friends

these images provoke the idea of largeness and wholeness
in mind, in matter

but tonight I am a lonely meadow,

or the tundra,

or the glacial masses sprinkled on the sea

but are my scattered flowers, sepals and thorns, here to comfort me?
no, they are mere memories, parasites in my brain
reminding me of the geraniums and chrysanthemums of yesteryear.
the brush in my tundra only thrives till the match goes out
and the icy peaks just fester the biting cold.

like the desert, I am barren in my mind
like the desert, I am fixating on make-believe images,
my oasis,
painted in my brain like in the cartoons
all bright, blue and green, and wavy
those are my thoughts, my desires
but they are almost transparent
and are just hazy imaginary projections in the distance
they cannot comfort me, just tease
just taunt

I am a broad, tall mountain
on most days
or as deep as a canyon,
on most days

but today I am merely one-dimensional
a line
a poor little piece of paper
lying on a desk in an empty classroom