Voice

Poetry is a strange thing, isn’t it?

Because it doesn’t come from anything.

Not really.

 

Sure, we can say

That the words we make

Are expressions of the soul

 

Or that it’s all

Just a bunch of gibberish

 

But I think

 

That it’s us,

Clambering and choking out things

That, in some order,

Make sense

 

I do not know if I am a poet

 

Though I hope I am.

 

For poets are the ones

That sing with words

 

And what a great honor it would be

 

For someone to hear my voice

Reviews

[steppenwolf]

Lovely and naked and you come out and say what writers all want in the end. This is quite moving.