all the letters on all the keys,
slid as did numbers and apostrophes,
off the board, over my knees
on to the floor, if you please
never did I comprehend this could happen,
let alone to me?
that was not enough, just a start
the words – all the words, vacated my
thoughts, mouth, and heart.
fell to the hardwood not on the screen,
they mingled and mixed like a
one huge spring break party machine,
hardly time to hesitate.
escaped nouns, sounds and verbs
enough letters to make every word.
do I contain the strength
to set all this straight
or shall they self arrange and write
their own poems, stories and verse.
a novel to write now lays underfoot
page, chapter, with foot notes too,
one flip of fate leads it to the floor.
then oh, then the worst
all my original thoughts
as well fell into this curse.
can this jig sawn piece be coerced
back in place, chapter and verse.
should I pursue quill and pen
actually write it in cursive.
A fresh tune to be typed,
or just make light
of the fact, I’m hunting for an excuse
just to cut loose,
from the discipline, the thinking and write.
Yet the letters and keys
trickery- trickery did
to expound yet another story
from their tumble like a shot gunned birds,
now arranged, pilled and in place,
to submit to Spillwords.
Born and raised on the prairies of Manitoba Canada, along the Red River and just south of Lake Winnipeg. Then Alberta and ten years in the Rockies, just above Montana. The last decade in the Canadian Gulf Islands. People, ideas and stories set the stage of my poetry and writing. Music and art fill my days and verse fills my head. I feel the fortunate one and share this world with my life partner.