write.

I write this word a lot –
almost two dozen times a day.

It’s on sticky notes, my hand,
        it’s on my notebook –
        every single page –

it’s on my mind.

I write until I can’t remember,
sometimes I write to forget.

There are days when time sneaks away
from me, and then there are days
when I am part of the
        sixty six second minute.

That’s called fiction.

I can be in the right, or wrong.
And as long as I’m aware of that fact,
        I’m right, again. So no matter,
                I still win.

I have tried the whole rhyme thing,
but no good words rhyme with write.
        It’s too predictable, it’s too much.

I can’t commit to one poem about a word.
        It’s like a prison sentence.

That’s why I write it so much.
I space them, I slant them, I chant them,
and I rant about the whole process.
        because I can.

Creative Authority.
Artistic Liability.
Lack of editing, what have you.

I’m right. I’m still right.

And even when I’m wrong,
        write.