Carrying the chaos of too many words I wonder at how odd it is that can and can, verb and noun, look and sound the same but are never mixed up. One can can another, relieve them of their duties which might cause them to weep and resort to new work only a single letter away, sweep, which is probably not at all very sweet, this new work, possibly in New York, keeping floors swept Remembering that Jesus wept and also slept and was likely quite adept at carving miracles out of stone, not bone; applying healing hands rather than the sands of time. Words that keep beginning and ending, sounding like neighbors but claim no relation, a week might be weak on someone's scale but to ask for a task gives no reason to bask in the knowledge that a rash of cash may appear unbidden, until then the poor wait at the door seated across a floor that expands beyond view. Sense is not common. Words and swords should be friends, they have the same letters plus one. How odd, that yes is so far from no, yet may and be, slung together behave like the perfect duet.