I write all day in my mind the words don't stop
that elusive art of the carriage return yet I mimic pauses
and spaces, pretend that there is room and time for breathing.
Up my hair the words crawl to sting my brain fetch my toneless thoughts
to be paraded. Sentences pick each other clean of prose and meaning
it is a privilege to be a participant in my own undoing.

11/05/2006

Posted on 11/05/2006
Copyright © 2024 Shirin Swift

Member Comments on this Poem

Posted by A. Paige White on 11/05/06 at 09:30 PM The last line was a kicker for me. Stole that chuckle right out of my chest before I could take a deep breath...it is a privilege to be a participant in my own undoing... LOVE IT. One of the technicians where I work always responds to inquiries with "I am participating" so I loved the added thought of "my own undoing". That is me!This is a great poem to my eyes...

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/08/06 at 01:45 AM Quite humorous! Self deprecating. Unique!