Monday, April 21, 2014

imperfect imperfection



as a writer
and a man
I seek
a true expression
of pain
and pleasure
that heals
especially
when it hurts
to say words
never hurt
is to say
they never mean
anything at all
if you measure me
by the standards
of the day
I'm neither
a writer
nor a man
nothing
has ever been
only the right
in only
the right order
for me in
only the right words
in only the right order
passion is absent
I am absent
I am still more
broken places
and imperfections
even the needle
that stitches
my good intentions
sits 
on a scratched record
and skips
like a broken metaphor