They say a poem is a little machine for remembering itself. These are more like nuts and bolts, in the bottom of a drawer. I might need them someday, that's what they say. I am not sure who 'they' are. I write poetry only to know who I am.
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...