25 April 2019

~
Words drop in like clatter in a tin can
like soft rain that goes torrential
like broken glass on the mind highway
or the random strike of lightening
hitting the brain’s circuitry
~
A scatter of run-together sentences
and stray explicative punctuations
in blinking flashes across the eyes
there is no grabbing ahold of them
not while they play the strobe dance
~
The best is to let some land in the heart
or maybe the womb space for a birthing
that is what they want really
to land in some poetic ordered sense
with a big breathy sob of exclamation
~
Once they squeeze out of that canal
all bright and shine and newly ordered
fully alive and ready to live out-loud
it’s the way words are in how they clatter
how they get birthed and sentenced
~
cc… jeanne Adwani.