I write to kiss the language,
I write to be the language

a poem is only words

and you can imagine,

or can you,

a world without words

Worlds form and collapse

Thunder storms the page

if you could feel the life

inside the sounds

​

if my words could invite you

 

Images spill out across blank paper

in a hot lava flow

​

hold it

finger it

turn it

this way that

dazzled by its sparkle