I capture thoughts as they come.

 

May they entertain or educate someone.

I don’t know why they keep saying that

poetry is dead, on its final terminal breath,

when there has been such an explosion

of new interest and events in the cities.

Especially here, in Spokane.

Spokane, where I can often walk to the

next poetry show or take the bus in the rain.

Perhaps a Lyft if I am feeling fancy.

Avoid the mating wooly aphid swarm.

Is there any chance that there exists

something before you that you’re not seeing?

Because I do. Poetry is Truth.

It is an exhalation of exaltations.

It is a dagger thrust into The Heart of Deception

(person or otherwise).

My cries, they come forward

in waves, most days.

They must be brought forth, to completion.

Once written, it becomes a validation of The Self.

Keeping it inward is a personal Hell.

And not A Question, anymore.

I capture thoughts as they arrive in due course.

Each verse, it is A New Beginning.

So, of course, it must end

to complete The Cycle.

I WILL NEVER STOP

UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 

This feeling, I WANT

FOR EVERYONE.

 

.