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

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