Pick up the pen
Pull off the cap
Smooth the page
Dig in your mind
Pull out the idea that glows
Toss it around in front of your eyes
Turn it inside out
Stand it on its head
Draw the sparkle out of the thought
Put it into your pen
And let it do the rest
To write a poem,
think a bit
About words and rhythms and
jumbled ideas
String them together
into a shape that casts
its shadow onto other’s minds
And rustles your feelings
with feathery wings
The passengers from my Train of Thought
stumble together on a page
to make a poem.
A trillion steps leads to here,
or a dozen big bounds.
Sixty-seven wing flaps,
or through twenty-nine caves.
Down a rabbit hole, I think
would suffice.
One magic chant (must be memorized).
Under the ocean floor,
or past thirty- two clouds.
Through a field of silken words
that float and drift around.
Or maybe you could just step inside your head,
to reach here…
littlewordworm 