Sometimes when I try to force a poem, nothing happens.
But in the moment before I fall asleep
In the swirl of commotion that consumes my mind
Pops in that perfect line that was just
Out of reach
Then the flood gates open
My mind is awash with line after line
It goes as quickly as it arrives
If I don't get them on paper quick enough, they start to decay
That's why I keep a notebook next to my bed
Often when i read it in the morning it doesn't sound like me

When I digest poems
I often regurgitate them
It's like throwing up
Alphabet soup
The letters
Are in a different order
Coming up
Than going down
After they've been
Saturated
In my juices
They become mine

My words are delivered
To the shores of my mind
By The Veiled Lady
She comes to me in a rosewood boat
From a distant land
She speaks to me in tongues long dead
My mind goes blank
My heart discerns their meaning
And creates poetry

Constructing my Web of lies
Strand by strand
Day by day
Self imposed ignorance
Thousands of soft lies
To bury one hard truth
First it's a safety net
Then it's a noose