it’s always so fascinating to me
watching my poetry
slide from one subject matter
[an introductory topic, if you will]
into the underlying
what-it’s-really-about
as if my conscious brain
*almost* gets it
but *always* needs to let the
subconscious brain take over
to get to the heart of the matter
[and if i try to control too much —
with form or function or rhyme or
look — the underlying message can’t come out;
or still does, but ruins whatever basis i had
laid out] and this pattern, of
almost-but-not-quite-knowing what my poetry will really
be containing, is like watching a movie of your own life
in front of you — you know what it was like behind your eyes
but from this third-person vantage, it’s all a little off
a little wild
a little unsettling in its
potential comfort,
but still entertaining
because of the new
perspective

that’s what my morning poetry is like
for me, most
mornings