is it pen and fingers mapping a paper path?
how it begins.   thought becomes body now.
broad blue swaths of ink.   like rivers do.
folding in quarters.   a pocket next.   patience
while words arrive.   water on thirsty skin.
 
 
listening.      then.         what does it say?
 
 
then doubts.   then uncertainty.   knowing the
faces inside.   some speak.   some are fish.
            dare speak aloud?
 
            does it quench?
the thing about reality is.      it is reliable.
blessing when right words gather close.
 
 
 
            because
 
the best part of writing a poem         is letting go.