sometimes I get so much bigger
than I am
and I don't even know
what that means
and I know you do
sometimes we are
that thing that knows
and the rest of the time
we remember
confused

I could never find the time
to write a poem
so instead
I wrote
down
salt and metal
hard times
fines or jail
lines I crossed
on the way
from anger
to surrender
threw them in
the box
held here
by you

I am not big enough
I think after reading
top poems here
authors so big
they see the stars
as if they were
space itself
so small
and bright

Enuf, I callout myself, my life
selfishness, conceit, self--centered
perhaps I am as I should be
or why did I grow this way
lessened I turn to you reading
calmly, curiously, judgmentally
I regard your air your breathing
your overall regard cooly distant
searching for what you know
in my miasma which I've poured
out upon paper napkins and time

It may have a AAA battery
this light I carry and
is hoping for a find
in this semi dark
of all my hopes run out
It may be flickering
and seem really really dim
against the background of you
such light raging in verse
I look away from your face
and there was a race I lost
getting here second to you

I feel myself closing in
when my arms fall
to my lap and break
through and debris
falls to my eyebrows
and I look up to see
myself closing in and

oh god I hate my stuff
has always been true
will always be true
sometimes includes
pants I wore