I am no great poet,
These words are no more
than an outpouring of thoughts,
In random orders,
Without much more thought
than that which they were.

I don't have any formula,
No structure or style to stick to,
I just repeat when it feels right
Repeat when it feels right
to remind you of what I said before
In some other thought.

I don't live a different life,
That is somehow more poetic,
Or beautiful or inspired.
I don't have a muse at the moment,
Nor do I have a sanctuary,
Any escape or silence
In which to think.

All I do is amble through,
The lines until I find
Some moment
Strong enough
Or desperate enough
Or vulnerable enough
To create some kind of
Fragile beauty.