Poem: Written

I have poems lying around, buried and crumpled under books, squashed in miscellanea, etc.  Here's one

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Written

it was done.  written.
the holes in the letters formed small eyes.
looked up.

so many poems coursing the Earth.
parades of happysad tomorrows,
giddy, brutal, mindless, thankful, shamed, 

thoughtful, giving, cursing, cruel or indignant,

prayerful and infernal, 

all of it mostly ignored

and yet always read.

the phrases

tended to make revisions,
rescript the plot,
fruit the novel's weight.

the intent ab ovo  

had never been to finish

or to specify a start.

the twine of the characters 

rewrote the writer,
yanked that very first plot
into their own expanding personas.

offshoots, once fiction,
launched on unprecedented trips.

no one, it was said, 

could really take credit or suffer the blame.

the garden had existed before the growth.
its unborn thorns had pricked the pace.

those first flowers,
they had wanted to capitalize Love;
and in that critical, crucial moment

had seized the pen,

stroking dutiful and quick--

just before the nuances in the ink
settled into a glisten of skins
to breathe.



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8/2/25 eds... took out some rare words, like "afflatus" for words people know