Flexing this muscle before the others
Advice falling out of my mouth
now grasped
This exercise just as hard to start
To work its way up to the point
When the ache and excuses have no sway
Spiritual endorphins released
When the self slips away
It’s not as if there’s nothing to share
The poet wants it to be a garden, not a list
Not for self adoration
But to let it grow into something else
A long sigh,a warning, a road sign, a memory
Is this ego or a conjurer’s secret wish?
Perhaps it is, as a by product
of exercise, of honest allocation
The gym rat’s dream of muscles
The gardener’s dream of rainbow blooms
The poet to take complex feelings and simple observations
And through language pumped by an honest soul
Create something more than a grocery list
Something that stands erect
And can be noticed.
AEM
3/9/11
FB,TX