the poem I wanted to write

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there was a poem
this morning
looping colored cursive arcs
on the ceiling

ready for paper–

it was something simple

like how your voice
wings to my ears
& our laughing braids across miles
or is it inches

between us

the degrees
of separation
are unclear
to me, somehow
debatable

but I had words
waiting
that spoke to this

that I wrote
with water ink
on leaves

blown off
& gone

before they could
be caught

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20 thoughts on “the poem I wanted to write

  1. Words are just wallpaper – the idea is the wood you stick them too. as long as you have them, the poem has a room to live in.

  2. I’m pondering this one right in the middle of pondering some editing. Can I run on dual tracks? If I see the words, I’ll catch ‘em for ya.

  3. Rhonda

    awoke with another poem in your mind that fled from the bed before your hand reached the nightstand? you may have lost something…but this was NOT it. you found it somewhere…under your pillow?

  4. I don’t typically walk around with pen and paper at hand so ideas fly through my head and disappear all the time. Waking out of a dream you lost a good one – maybe that’s some kind of motivating impulse to keep you searching for the lost phrases.

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