I am from the sound of traffic
in the distance, filtered by a mile of pine
I am from snot-yellow pollen, swelling my eyes and nose
I am from the stacks--books, not pancakes
From paper that's seen a century turn
and paper so new it'll make your nose burn
I am from the Hebrew: "son of the right hand"
And the German: in a certain light, you might call it a papermaker
I am from days with two sunrises.
From Lake Lachrymose, the Indigo Plateau, and from a network of secret tunnels a dozen universes wide.
I am from a brick wall and a spotlight.
An unexpected guest on the other side of an unopened door
A chicken at a crosswalk.
Knock Knock: I am from the Answer