I wish you could read
My poems the way I do.

My memories race along
With the words I write and,
More than just keeping up,
They scream at me.
Don't leave that out, you coward.
Never ever say that, you fool.
I tread cautiously on history,
But they kick and scream
And throw things at me:
Change this, change that!
They never rest, ferocious.
Even as I write the poems
They are changing them.
Before I write them
They are steering and forcing
My thoughts into places
I really don't want to go.
Their intensity lights a way
To where I never meant to go.
Their fear turns off all the lights,
And leaves me in the dark:
Where I never want to be.
Alone. Then wanting them to
Come back and show me more.
When I finish writing
I always feel drained
Of volition, wondering
Why I just did that.

I wish you could read
My poems the way I do.

03/07/2011

Posted on 03/12/2011
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