I like poems.
Poems are short, and full of truth.


It's a funny kind of true, because they don't have to be true

I mean, they don't have to be historically correct or shit,
they just have to come from that Place Inside of You
where Poems Come From.

But what do I know, I write what I write.

I didn't get a degree in anything
and I hadn't written poems in forever
I was invited to write a poem once a day for the month of January.

What I realized was that I like poems,
I like reading them, even if I can't seem to understand them.
I like thinking of short ones in my head: All day, they pop in, and they pop out.
I like thinking about the smoke of the candles' flame around my bathtub, how it must mean something;
I like over-analyzing the star-like sparkle of my bedroom's dust!


I guess I never really know quite how
pretentious they are (my 'poems')
because I feel what I feel and I feel it's the truth.
how am I to know.