Q: How do you write music, melody, poetry, without

Frag
ments?
Falling from my head to
my lap. Clattering from the
pockets of my
coat patched with
rainbows. Writing in
snips, strips – fabric cut from the
whole it was
woven into the
whole of the complete
weaving in fragments too I sit shattering into
the rubble of
words.
De-struction
De-con-struct-ion. The
questions now bubbling – thoughts
concrete, reality scattered in
metaphors. “Why can’t I
say exactly what I
mean?” The
ink that
flows so smoothly to the paper leaves
nonsensical squiggles that
form together in a
moment into
remains
of mistakes which
stitch themselves together, if you
angle the
page just
so.
Felt
The shreds back into
one even though the blueprints have not
even been dreamed into the
delicate life of reveries crashing
together in the reality of
one                  breath              .

Don’t
push me into the
gasp by
the gaps
into the next spell of the
thoughts
into
shattering
felt
stitch
of
breath.