Poems · poetry

“But, What About…?”


“But, What About…?”


Large swirling strokes empty the vigor from an eager elbow

Transmitting ideas forward to a fluid wrist and firm hand

Ideas that were born of a brain sifting sensory tides

Alive in the ocean of being

Flopping about while trying to tread for existence

Shapes become words to be seen or heard

Digested by othered others

So they can taste the pain of surviving

Spitting out or stilled around the cavern of speech silent

The sudden recognition of an unfamiliar object or particle within a familiar comfort

It can be jarring…

And recovery, doubtful

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