fat colorful leaves
tumble around my feet
shades you never see of
unusual curl and striation
greed fills me
this huge pile of poems
seem ready and able
to leap directly onto paper
and I’ll take
all the glorious credit
as I sit on my hands
and give them a little kick
up all night writing because I wanted some sparkling revelation to offer this morning but words failed and I have nothing to show but the sloppy stains of scribbles and cross-outs maybe I'll learn som
truth aches when an overread book is continually misunderstood or when a love that needs to shout is left to linger unspoken on lips
to this swirling existence we write about so why not dabble in the dialect and points of view? use solitary clouds and footprints fresh stains and old smells the embraces of snakes turn words upside d