, , , , , , , ,

It’s not my thing to tell

You when to


Believing I took

And put static thoughts on a page

That you might receive really

You bring dizzy

Rivers to table

Ever pouring my drink

Like you

Must my cup runneth


I’ll never say when

May each sentence run on

To discover

The table

Has waterfalls splashing

Drunk mess

Beyond limit or sense getting

Wet with this liquor

Then sticky and tense

You keep pouring

No breath

I said

Fences were made to defend

But my pages were meant

To slip open

For bodies and souls

Ought to know when

To rest or

Keep fighting

This rhythm within

Every word

Were a clue had you listened

You’d never have better

Get swept up

In text

Beyond fetter

Don’t ever forget

A whole story

As letters

We’re bound to encounter

The sense in a mess



Breathe and stop as

You please

And wonder of it when you must

If in mercy I made you relent

You’d be gone by

Managed by grammar

With markers and lines

Yet petitions for signs sound


At best bringing

Rivers you ask that

I start making sense

Forgive you the conflict

Of guessing

At subtext deciding

The hiding intent

It’s on you

That we’re gasping for breath

You keep going

Though words on a page become bait

And you know it

You won’t quit

Follow each rule till the finish

Law to its letter

No pause even if

You would linger denial

Were ever

Your lust

Runneth over my cup

Running breathless

You hate this

Why can’t you give up

At the end there’s a line

And you’ll find it enough

With the rules it’s no use

If you can’t get your feet wet

Don’t you dare breathe yet

Takes all of the guts

To just dive when

You’re dying of sense but

Whenever you’re ready

Free the verse baby

Break out of line and make love.