They come on to my clean
sheet of paper and leave a Rorschach blot.
They do not do this to be mean,
they do it to give me a sign
they want me, as Aubrey Beardsley once said,
to shove it around till something comes.
Clumsy as I am,
I do it.
For I am like them -
both saved and lost,
tumbling downward like Humpty Dumpty
off the alphabet.

Each morning I push them off my bed
and when they get in the salad
rolling in it like a dog,
I pick each one out
just the way my daughter
picks out the anchoives.
In May they dance on the jonquils,
wearing out their toes,
laughing like fish.
In November, the dread month,
they **** the childhood out of the berries
and turn them sour and inedible.

Yet they keep me company.
They wiggle up life.
They pass out their magic
like Assorted Lifesavers.
They go with me to the dentist
and protect me form the drill.
At the same time,
they go to class with me
and lie to my students.

O fallen angel,
the companion within me,
whisper something holy
before you pinch me
into the grave.

To all the Poets who work so Hard
To bring us their Precious Words
And tell us of their Tears and Fears

To all the Poets who work so dear
To tell us Magic tales of yore
Clashing swords and Dragons roar

To all the Poets who work so long
Juggling Words to bring them on
And express the Fights all won

To all the Poets who clever Phrase
Your words put us into a Daze
And, this poem's to Rave your Praise

This Poem's your Laurels to Honor you...


All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack

My love,
My dearest friend
In whom I take refuge
I give to you my preious heart,
Gladly.

I wonder
how many words
have sat on the tip
of your tongue,
waiting to take the plunge
into the world outside,
but have held back
in fear of the fall-

and I wonder
how different your life would be
had those words been set free.

we're all letting ourselves get so wounded so deeply by so many people

Down I've worn the tread.
I was born already dead.