Monday, July 30, 2007


Yesterday, four different people, at four different times & situations made comments to me about poetry. I suppose that has everything to do with why this was on my mind when I woke up from a nap today with a brutal headache:

To tell a joke and hear no one laugh
Make a fine point and silence fills your ears
You see yourself walking away, and she can’t hear you calling her back
She didn’t hear because you didn’t call
You’re sure you did, you’re sure you thought it hard enough
What you say matters only in the recesses of your mind
Reordering thoughts – clearing away randomness
Making things matter on the inside
Business as usual on the outside
Voiceless you in a deafening sea of silence
It’s not supposed to matter
And yet it does
Someday it wont

I never said I was a poet, but there's a weird one for ya.