Saturday, August 8, 2009


i often find myself
lost in contemplation,
wandering through
the piles of participles stored
in the attic of my mind.
i keep every
ancient alliteration,
can't toss the ideas
that have lost their luster
because one day
they'll be worth something
i know it i just know it.
one man's trash is
some girl's sanctuary
they say and i am
blessed to find
self in this calm
complexity that spring
cleaning never touches.
cozy between
enjambment and
metaphors for comfort, i
close my eyes and
whisper, it's cluttered
but it's home.