Surname alphabet soup
Able to label
& categorize in the first sitting
For billing purposes
Taking stabs at psychosomatic
Symptoms of being
Human
Like breathing easy
Knowing the tree will bear forbidden fruit
When the moment arrives
& not a minute too soon
To write I am might,
Flowing from nib to felt tip;
Perhaps a ballpoint.
Topple empires,
Without firing a shot;
Whispering rumors.
Hello beautiful one
Behind your lined paper
& open books
I see you
Pouring over facts, fiction, figures
Giving shape to those absent-minded
Thoughts I have about you
(& the changing weather)
Gossiping to yourself in the hallway
Arm in arm
Painted buttons open
Elegant eloquence
Stepping up on the left side
I can’t help but catch a glimpse
In passing
Falling into the blue
Sky and sea and pool
Swimming in your shadow
Articulating this is the last time
Another ten digits later
It’s hellos and how’s it going
Suddenly awakened into some
Dilapidated dream world
Puzzling over sawdust
Those horses are made
For riding
Into the sunset
I ruffle feathers,
My hands spin straw into gold;
Now who could I be?
No rose thorn to blame,
Encased under glass bell;
One you cannot ring.
They say bury the hatchet so I did
One skull seemed to make a perfect fit
Once I wedged it in properly
It took on the form of skin
Modeling clay to reform and
Reconstruct all the parts
Less so for gestalt
And moreso for the experience
Taking a stab at
Moving the needle forward
One step at a time
