my sea of thought
washes up from the bay
clustering drips; drip drop on my paper
blank spaces filling from the tit
of my quill,
splashing out samples
of spoiled ink.
now swishing in and out
and around preposterous prepositions
and dependent clauses,
spilling here and there
as I add a dab of nouns
the resonating verbs
are soon spilling their guts
with rhythm ... listen, do you hear?
the fluid formation of sound.
M's and N's are you humming?
sibilants, is that you hissing?
like baby snakes,
shivering to form ripples on my dry skin
drip, drip, I can hear
the consonants collecting
are they coming to dance with the vowels?
the vowels, those foolish emotional cons
regurgitating romance
to blend in with the tide,
have come to create undertow
beware lest they take you in!
it's ready to play now,
my orchestrated liquid
of verbal splash on parchment
word slander jamming,
poet slamming, against a tidal wave
of chords that rise and fall
at the end of each line.
perform for us now, my collection
entice us with a sample,
be it a sip or a drink,
spill upon us your slander
like a river
as you gushingly flow
off this page
was it yesteryear
I saw my reflection
in this pool of thought
was I was gasping for air
as you say?
sail on into the deeps
as I must be amassed
but yet, can I leave
the fire burn on the sea
nay, I will watch
as the embers float to the sky
then return to my quill
where I live, and I die
as I dock my sea of thought
in your harbor.
Steve Shearer, 1/22/2006
