my type breathes ink
pressing said ink against sky
holds it, sticks it, stains it
each letter pushes
and stays
every mistake she makes is crinkled
and college-lined
freethrown in and around
an endless waste basket
later,
we'll call it her greatest work
because my type
type: writer
alphabet ingester
idea inventor
stainer of sky
believes in a world
where the world believes
she dots her eye-contact
and crosses her teachings
she sees old folks as encyclopedias
and children as ear to ear echoes
of all of this beautiful ****
that makes us shout
out loud
she sees fairytales
as tomorrow's scientific law
and travels this crazy world
via lopsided butterfly
whom by nature
always take the scenic route
because my type
type: writer
freelance flower grower
with watercolor wordplay
breathes, believes
and redrafts
breathes, believes