I am stealing a line and
constantly risking absurdity
by adding and multiplying in Latin script.
Breathing life into thoughts that
spark from the fireplace
up into the air
and then gone.
Or like the flashes of lightning bugs.
Yellow, in the corner of your eyes.
In over-expressive eyebrows
wrinkled forehead, and stone jawlines.
Imitations in the mirror
as I pull my hair into shape.
I am constantly risking absurdity
whether voice cracks
fingers fretting over the slides.
When each brushstroke is left obvious
sloppy and apparent
and the sentences run on and on
and on.
(The line was stolen from Ferlinghetti. Sorry, Larry)
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