My Poem

I'll never write a poem
without my true voice.
It pronounces its words
in unruly combination
that eagerly
begets confusion.

And, I'm glad
that there was never
a written word
that didn't take
ingenuity to hold.

Symbols: might as well
be the random scrawling
of a child,
and I detest
our 'concrete' language.

You don't need to touch my pen or paper, or
know my strokes, just know my mindlessness
when I toke.

When I'm
caught in a menagerie of damaged thoughts,
diminished diction, and broken rules,
I wonder where this collection
of nonsense ever came from.

Not from the world I knew,
or from the world I know,
but the one that doesn't know me,
or you [I want you here too].

Subjectively interpreting an objective universe
seems like fun on Saturdays, but some days,
I just have to call it
for what it is.

My words are the problem
and my poetry
exacerbates it
well enough
to bring me
to that shifty
dead place.

That we're all
fortunately unaware.