The poem

Perched to pounce

on the sheet white page

Ink propels itself

infinite as adrenaline 

from fingertips

feeling for details

Not saying

what was a thought

before

Another word placed

Itself

to getting somewhere closer 

needing a 

tangible witness

to guide.

Painting by August Macke c. 1910, in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Pheeling the Skein

Follow the strings and twisted wires,

everything and more than all that is there

is moving About;

spinning, buzzing, jumping, vibrating, rocking,

and it comforts most

anxious beasts.

Calm could come later.

Tied to chords that carry notes containing

amateur truths

capable of travel through walls and cells.

Tangles always teach by example.

How easy it is.

Free will- not worth the long lines.

Holding breath was a frugal way of sadness.

We make promises to indulge

at the ends, 
we find the nots are terminal.




Painting By Kuroda Seiki (1866-1924) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Fingertips gather nerves

I got over it.

I had some extra lift,

(Oofta as grandma would say, Chutzpah grandpa would grumble

in accordion)

Don’t think brazen-

Don’t drink that-

It is enough without elaborating

It is extra superfluous to describe-

So let’s not.
So let’s be

Honest. Necessary. Only. Listen.

More understood, more grounded under foot.

The wings will whisper-“I, lashes”

The blood tingles warm, currently a-live.

Everything here was for you to use,

Everything was waiting

Notice.

Photo By No machine-readable author provided. B & W Kirlian fingertip [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.