revisiting the office/warehouse…
trying to translate my memories into poems,
my fantasies into novels.
“why sure i’d like to learn to dance”
and take part in intimate conversations,
pour myself gracefully into my literature.
so, here i am… in a mirror.
maybe someone will read it
and someday see themselves walking the same mile.
it might make them want to write another mirror,
for someone else to someday see themselves in…
we could vaguely connect,
by breaking down these walls,
with our traditions on our backs.
all in attempts to give back to what we’ve taken from.
(this writing process sure is a shame,
but i’ve found the pen i was looking for.)
(and all of the lines i’ve forgotten to write down
will be waiting on a scroll for me in heaven.)
handwritten december 19th, 2012