I think my life has cracked
open my mind and
is drawing out my words
like meat from a nut. This
is the tenth poem today
and I
am so tired. My head hurts
from being split open and if
I pause, in the middle of our
conversation, be kind
remember that all my words
are now gifted to the paper
and I am quick forgetting
everything
but the cool smell of this hour
and the scratch of my pen
and