My poems come in

delicate crevices in time

and at moments when

they pop right in and

I just have to write them down

and that is that.

 

My poems are never

the work of the day

but the feeble creations

of the night when alone

they come like ghosts to be

my friends and companions all.

 

These mystical creations

flow from music or even

from the unthinking words

of a fleshly friend

who does not know

what his empty words

have created or bestowed.

 

My poems are the

tunes in my soul

that play loud,

that play soft,

then sometimes form

a symphony,

and all of this, it seems,

is only for me.

 

12/11/2016