as i write
each word,
each letter,
they look back
one last time
seeking the nod,
a parental prod-
‘go ahead, go on
you can do it.’
assured
they disappear
and
turn the page.
my thoughts
sculpt my form
into
a very specific
type of
accelerant.
every spark
is
the last line
of the poem
because it
slaps the page
as it occurs;
fires up
and
burns out
and
nothing
remains.
i have tried
to
take time
and bespoke
stanzas
but
the longer
i take
to get
my thoughts
out
the less likely
each line
launches its
breath.
the less likely
fruitful arguments,
blind navigations
ensue,
like shadow boxing-
this word
can’t follow
that word
and that word
follows nothing.
the less likely
a surprise
and a reminder
of the question
I dared not
utter,
appears.
inspiration
and
I assure you
the last two years
did happen.
and
even though
we wrestle with
the burden of
caretaking
and
of releasing
our stories
from clenched fists
and
throats
so tightly locked
that hope almost
choked out of
them sometime around
the third wave
and
again after
the fourth
or fifth cancelled event,
we are ready
to take a chance
and
begin wishing
that we could stop
wishing for things to
be different
and
we wonder
if a life
can finally be put
in an order of
our choosing.
scale
your fire
does not know
how big it is.
spark
please
write some
words today.
write what
you already
know.
write the
body.
write the
mind.
write the
soul.
not written
to make
poetic,
made written
from the
poems already
there.
precoffee
noticing deep coiled feels pent up behind words made almost real as waking steals my attention. no sun rising or bird song teasing will ease the feelings that my art is moving winding grooving in a mind not yet lit up. in and away from a spark in the falling dark thoughts are dualling fueling pens and calling in a surprisingly silent direction. my actions of detection spring from nothing noting herding grabbing new wording that preceded my thoughts - gotta write something.
idea list
eat cake with bare hands use up a marker in one sitting run out of gas close to home sail a paper boat into a storm drain stand firmly on cracking river ice find the source of cicada sounds in summer
words keep wolves at bay 