spoken word poems

are written this way

in my world:

sip write say it

find it so weird sip more delete everything.

sip again–

more this time.

write again say it again a little softer now.

it is getting better isn’t it?

or I am getting drunker?

one of the two..

anyway.

more sips more words a mirror performance.

it feels weird that’s what it is to hear the words

travel through the air

and not send them out

straight from the heart.

my heart doesn’t know how to send words on UP

so what I really shouldn’t be doing is dragging them down

with wine I should be

breathing harder to build the beat

until they float on those notes

up, always up, light but firm

to where they belong

and then see what happens.

and never, never forget to take that next breath.

they’re only words.

they too will pass.