Isn’t it funny

How someone with so many words

Has so much trouble 

With spoken discourse

Pen to paper

Big Bang



The beginning 

No day for rest

On and on

As far as time 

Until someone asks a question

Lips forget to move

Tongues that whispered movements

That ink followed

Get lazy 

Waiting for it to be seen 

In eyes that want to tell you

Everything I’ve been thinking

And turning

And scribbling

And processing

Maybe it’s better this way

Your favorite genre 

Has always been mystery


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