(pre)amble

this poem is the alpha
(dog
-gerel) 
-bet against the house, 
the unquiet mouse
(or wheel) 
who squeaks first. 

at worst, it’s a squawk 
-stab in the dark, a tent
-ative spark to start 
something new. a cool 
blue sky awaiting 
scribble. 

wiggle it a little. giggle 
to the moon, she’ll swoon 
you into some scribe-sway, 
some way to connect-the-dot 
stars to make these phrases 
ours. 

draw a starting line. draw a 
small fine string for a kerned
-kite opening, a magic wand
-ering fling. 

let it wonder-wander awhile.
let it smile. 
let it style 
itself against the cracked 
-egg horizon glow. let it know 
it might never be finished, 
but will never dim
-inish the ember within. 

hold your horses, 
your breath,
your pen. 

and let’s begin. 

::
In November, we poem. And on the 30th, we finish. Whew.

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