I always start
the first draft
on my cell phone,

Poetry flows out
of my thumbs,

Blood pumps
through veins,
as letters
become words,
words become
brok-
en lines
and these lines become,
a piece of me, a piece of
you in ways

Soul whispers
flow
from my heart to
brain,

Memories become lines

both broken
and complete,

stream down my spine

circulate down to my
toes,
back up to my heart
and into
yours.