Sometimes the Words


Sometimes the words fall out like confetti, like
rain on a spring morning…dampening the page
with meaning and emotion, littering the street
after the parade

Sometimes they refuse to jump, clench with
white knuckled resistance and laugh at my
cajoling my pleading my demanding yelling

Sometimes the meaning runs alongside like
a dog after his masters bike, not often
not regular like the mail the TV the war
that never stops

Sometimes there is loss inside them, there is
failure and sorrow and corners filled with
suspicion filled with ideas that not enough
was ever done

Sometimes joy breaks through the dutiful
depression the learned response to fear
before I learn to judge before I know to
watch without seeing

Sometimes the order just happens just
becomes something bigger than meant, a
depth unplanned…I cry a little…seeing
an edge of myself

Sometimes it’s badly disguised shit left
on the bike path I use to get them from
inside to outside from there to here from
empty to full

Sometimes no all times they are necessary
and insignificant and substantial and
irrelevant and they make me live love
every minute I am alive

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