I take the black sea with my black coffee
I can't stay away from this island;
I pour hot coffee down my throat
while I stand out on deck at 2 a.m.
this is what being a poet is all about, I guess.
or obsessing over the things that make you feel something,
I run my pen under the faucet in the sink
to get one more verse to spill from it,
I can't afford new ones
and I always loose the rest.
I watch the sea
and write these lines.
Echo, maybe I believe
but like a new born, in these words I am conceived.