probably off in a loft,
writing my thoughts,
rhyming and timing the syllables,
conjuring words like birds they fly,
cynical flow but gloomy at times,
lyrical bows the sparrows will cry,
pierced by the arrows that flew through the sky,
higher and higher repeating my tries to fly out of orbit and break off my ties,
drifting and swerving i’m curving and turning while yearning for strokes of the pen,
my solace within is crashing and burning,
falling to earth,
i’m back by the morning for mourning the death of a dream that just ended,
i am suspended,
i am suspended.

No words
slip from my tongue.
No words
emerge from my fingertips
as they race across the keyboard.
No words
spill from my mind,
trace the recesses of my brain,
leave my lips with the taste of butterscotch.
I have traveled far and wide,
from one pole to the other
then so far west I'm back in the east,
but I still have no words.
No words
to describe this feeling,
the one at the back of my throat every time I speak,
the one tingling at my fingertips whenever I press them against the keys,
the ones zigzagging my mind from dawn to dusk and even after that.
No words
to describe the tightness of my chest,
whether from the way she tucks her hair behind her ear
or the weight of today on my shoulders.
The thoughts --
I chase them, but they always slip away
just as I can feel them in my grasp.
No words, no thoughts, no way
to finish this poem
not when it's ever-flowing, ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-there.

I am alone in the bed and—
no, wait... nope
I’m not
a small wiggling creature is climbing,
hugging, kissing, squirming
— mom? are you awake?
&$!#!*!!
— can you go to the bathroom with me?
— yes baby, let’s go...

I tried to cut the wind once
But no mater how hard I slashed
It was all a futile effort
In the end I was abashed

It grew angry with me
It's patience grew so thin
Then the cold wind cut right through me
as if foolishness was my only sin

I was a busy bee in clover
I would hover above the pretty flowers
Drinking their sweet nectar in
and passing away the hours

The blossoms were so many
The fields so ever wide
I shared all of my golden pollen
From petal to petal
I flied

Some flowers tried to hold me
Their alluring scents filled the air
They dazzled in many colors
Sashayed with seductive flare

Then they tried to finger me
Tried to attach their silky strings
But when they thought they could handle me
I let them have my sting

Buzz off . . .