Friday, September 25, 2009


DREAMS cough up stories startling poets into finding pens.

Fumbling for a light switch.


Oh yes...paper.

ANY KIND: cardboard, envelopes, business cards, junk mail.

A notebook is called "getting lucky."

If I was a real poet I would sleep on paper and feel LUCKY all the time.

But then I would still have to find a pen.

I would BE the pen.


A garden of words my fortress, or my folly. both.

but what to-do about having ink?


  1. lovely thoughts here...pondering thoughts, no less, if you are the pen and where is the ink, but what lies within the surface of its capsule? Allows my mind to wander and know you have validated my thought process that poetry is everywhere!

  2. ps really like this piece.... came back for another read, contemplation


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