#1083 - making

 

20.xii.22

1083

3.353

making

 

in the open

acres of mind

 

image, one after a word

queue dissolving

 

under my breath

beat by beat a heartsay

 

it’s as if from out of

all day swept and away

 

I make a poem under

just from

nobody can hear it

 

unders such branches, leaves

hidden where

just as I am

 

under the radar

 

they find me

I them

recovering from all days before

 

and just as far as we’re concerned

never left

 

I say them

roll them around

not even I can hear

 

I speak the poem in my head

I tell it till it’s gone