don't think you could
beat the street without
me

it's madov's bossy laughter
and his vossy
attitude

i don't know if
you know what i mean:
solitude

but that's fine my brother
but that's fine my sister

without writing
everything is fist fighting
without fist fighting
everything is writing

i need me a

new language
new lady
thousand babies

and i'll found a tribe
you never heard of it'll
be called

tizzop

Compromised
between original and possible
losing the beat and a little of the rhythm
even the form
as the pulled words
fall afresh,
short of English,
far from the tree,
but cousin enough
to retain alikeness
and still echo a piece of me.

we study lips
yet no sound
can convey
what remains unspoken

we draw trees
for every sentence
then refuse
to paint the leaves

every word
we know how to create
but creators
we are not

the history of language
walks our tongues
we admire
without adding

we analyze
written or spoken
to avoid
our own

Somewhere between the unknown and “déjà vu”
To make connections, is something one must do
To remember and then conceive an accurate depiction
Of what our senses expose to our brain’s interpretation

Speech is silver, silence is gold
Is listening to what we’re told
More important than saying what we know
To improve a level so far, frustratingly low?

Start easy and grow gradually in complexity
The key to express oneself with ample clarity
Alleviating the risk of dreadful incomprehension  
Slowly unleashing the grasp of one’s imagination

Learning something new and interesting
On an hourly, daily, monthly or annual basis
What else could be even more exciting?
Maybe being in the desert and recognizing an oasis?

I want to share
I want to give and receive
I want to dare
I want to live.

A little sonder
goes a long way
in understanding you, him, her
--anyone not me;
your hands have their
own feel and peril;
your eyes, their sui generis orbit
with this world (of ours)
spinning on a differing axis;
and returning its sorrow,
its pleasure,
in an unabridged box
named after obscurities,
known only to you (not me);
the frustration of photographing
this amazing moment sets in
when I realize it already exists,
randomly,
vividly,
in every single person I daily see;
and their uniqueness
cannot be annulled.