Coagulate

Where has all my poetry gone?

My words dive down open spaces,

choke other voiceboxes

with grins that take you places;

and my clever timing punctuated

and passed down through paraphrase;

and my clever meaning all debated,

and my words are now wrong.

Where has all my poetry gone?

Through the vessels of throat

and song and all the words

I throw at you begin

to return home.

You give me novel twists and turns and then

No novel endings with their smiling finish.

Stop asking for my shove unless you think

My sense and spine could faithfully diminish.

Until a couple days of lifts and spires

ago, I couldn’t know

this constant flow of dreams

and sighs you drip drip down

phone wires

would coagulate, electrify,

like mounds of mud

my fingernails search through,

sinking steadily and readily,

searching for choked blossoms

of some dead future harvest.

I’ll meet you over hills of weed and brine,

Your chances just as weak and good as mine.

The right thing is not always best; quick-start

Departure through the vessels of his heart.

30 April 2008.

“True confusion to confuse

Overrated overused

It was only meant for you

And me.”