Thursday, January 30, 2014

on love and writing

writing is a sharp
or a colored pen

swimming strokes
the first bite of a brand new journal
the entire longwide
of a blank white page
     a favored worn thesaurus
                                the wading through

gearing up
buttoning up
plowing through
dressing sentences and hiding clues
                                                   like up a sleeve
ceding seeding stealing
                               like kisses
chewing  like on gum
writing is staying
    inside too long on a sunny day

writing is
               scrawling on the back of receipts at a
               stop light
                       like a fiend
                the rouse of the morning muse
                             nursing noisy nymphs
ideas high on caffeine
insomniac stirring whirring thoughts
                                                      that smack of brilliance when
                                                              sleep deprived and only half awake brain frazzled ruse
too much  not enough slivers of wisdom
and what’s been repressed

writing is
comparison contrast
     inversion paradox exaggeration rhythm feet
                                                                tapping blue like jazz elevation

writing is caring 
shading not caring blotting steering tightening tripping
  hulling sharing
    loosening and a
                     a raging pondering
writing is a whore depraved redeemed
a jolt or jab
 a filtering a filling gag
intention cute
dreaded reaching

writing is a good book and
                  a want
a kindling
a catching fire
a café a bar
a calling
a madness
writing is a kind of mothering and a
     thievery of sorts 

it’s getting lucky
 it’s finding a return for words  the finite in the infinite finding where you went wrong
saving giving slaving slimming wedding stewing all day slewing harping spinning
finding a return to you
a return to love
is need is not
is real
is keen

love is spotting your smile
lit up
you smiling at me as you pull into our driveway
me seeing it from where I’m writing on the porch
love is my luck
falling asleep in your arms
love is the package of then and now  is red like the roasted leaves in autumn
                                          not leaving not gone
not late not proud
can’t be jinxed

love is a nest
   our house

my heart
beating wildly back and forth

is poured out
leads follows
camps out rides in is
                     pinned upon my chest pines is written stenciled pales next
                                                        to nothing bides unlocks fights
is rare


love is
           my skin
                still shy
but slipping through my eyes
love is the scent and the feel of your skin blurring with mine, especially
          in the morning your barely open lids
it’s a big deal

the nape of your neck you turning back to me in bed
   toasting me
a tandem bike a bough
your hands working out the
                                      kinks shutting the door

digging like through a sales rack
crazy like our families
love is you
brewing a fresh pot of coffee

love is proof in the pudding and
                                               a picture a child drew
love is a passage and
             a shape
             a tattoo
love is the taste
   of the obvious
your stare coring
decoding me
the unmistakable sound
                                 of your delighted
it is
           imagining you as a
and knowing you as
        a man 
love is my tongue
      and love is

love is room to move
then come back
love is a still
 quiet day
                                                                 you home
a sunday

free verse blank verse and form  the flow like slam like poetry

love is a parable
            to return
            to our room
            to write
love is always
finding –
                             when I’m with you
a blaze
a desire
a madness
every synonym and simile

finding you in words
writing is love is you

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