sometimes i write poetry for the page
tapering each line down just a
little bit lower so that
aesthetically it
pleases

and other times i compose rows and rows of possibilities in my head
waiting for the right syllable to fit in
and taste so good as it fills my mouth
with alliterative qualities
i can’t imagine life without
and rhymes and mines of tongue twisters
laying in wait, waiting to trip up an unsuspecting mouth
but it all settles into something that i can chew and spit spit spit
out
with a rhythm all of my own making
all of my own devising
all of my own words
humbly arriving
as they should

but

most of the time
i create for
both