No. 10, or Uncontrollable.

my words
they’re falling in pieces
tripping from my clumsy tongue
trudging through mind muck
breaking up
smaller every second
syllables separate
— disintegrate
— dissolve
they revolve
— brain to blood
— blood to lips
— lips to air    to ears
what’s in my brain
doesn’t make it to your ears
fear and nerves rattle my words
they race around mental curves
vibrating herds of garbled noise
they are mine no more
the moment the sound slipped from my lips
I knew:
the words were from another
a stranger ciphering my message
messing with my sentiment
scrambling my meaning
— my feeling
perhaps it will translate
— untangle
— unravel
between your ears and brain
aim for restoration
reassemble my narration
patience, please, & cooperation
come to understand:
my words,
they have a mind of their own.


There’s something living in these lines…

A steamy mug of dark coffee—or five—
nursed between soft palms as the night becomes
the morning. Lines begin to come alive.
They dance a reel or two and twiddle thumbs
for their audience is dull and drowsing.
Together in a mass of curves and limbs
thrusting out at all angles,  harboring
resentment in the hours dark and dim,
they protest in anger: “We are not one,
but many—individuals!” they cry.
“Don’t let us blur, with your weary vision,
into a moody mess of black and white.”
Stare at the sheet in hand, eyes full of tears,
blink til it fades to black and disappears.


Staring at the blinking neon numbers,
dim entrancing chartreuse—wide eyed lying
flat on my back as guilt washes over
my body like the flow of sea crying,
creeping stealthily toward dunes, sighing.
You never mentioned her—that’s not my fault.
You smiled, shrugged. Thought you were teasing
until I felt your hand on my thigh, taut
fingers squeezing gently, then brushing soft,
tickling my ribs. I laughed helplessly.
Your arm came ‘round me, but I did not stop
your empty gestures. You grinned drunkenly
at my indulgent smile. I know next day,
you’ll forget. I won’t. I should not have stayed.