Either a Poem...Or a Blank

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Which one do I want?
The blank I’m talking about is the space in between my heartbeats, the parts of my dreams that I can’t remember, the breaths that take a while to release. Blank might sound boring and awful, but it’s actually one of the most fascinating images or pictures ever. Because something is there, you just can’t see it. And what you can’t see is so much more powerful than what you can.

The poem I am talking about is the writing on my hand, the pages scattered through half a dozen spiral notebooks, the unsaved documents on my computer, lines that I store in my head in danger of being lost at any moment. I know it looks crazy and it is. But if it wasn’t chaotic it wouldn’t be by me.
I could never choose one or the other, for I consist of both.
Once a poem can paint a picture that is both blank and vivid I will tattoo it into my soul.
To be magnified and minimized by the shape of a sound, the color of a word, the texture of a thought, To be formed and recreated by the crashing of waves… that is what I seek. 






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