about accessibility

I’ve run my hands over the secret,
over everything that was asked about.
I’ve walked a ground with answers written
       coded and plain,
felt it in me at times - fullness without edges
and of course a self-loathing shared
      and read about, the condition.
I know it’s right here, understand around
      the piece burning
tug on the line, there are so many
      lines in the water,
answers in the dirt (why I need a teacher for sure)
and laughter at times from those secrets. Still,
it’s not enough to have these at my side knowing, I need

to eat them, they wish to be eaten (I imagine it so),
      eat eat, perhaps too much of a good thing,
      fulfillment and satiety occupying the same square
      or winner of the last empty chair.
I don’t need another full page, a few words gosh, even letters enough to
get me achy.

But it’s about accessibility, those secrets, accessibility.
And after it’s eaten, what if -
after it’s eaten how -
      a hot potato man!  it’s gotta go gather NO moss.
I had a friend name Moss, he gave me poems to read,
more secrets, more food, more potato, more moss,
      I’ve run my hands over secrets,
      over everything that was asked about, oops bloody
hell, here
again.