Some days I am the poet
drawing pictures of moments with words
poured out like spoonfuls of falling light.
The written phrases
may,
or may not,
be diluted by those that follow.
My terrified heart
often tries to press
darkness into the light,
to repaint the revelations
and disguise them.

Some days I am the poem,
flowing out of a spring
of crass beauty.
In this stream
I am revealed,
exposed,
stripped naked.
It flows quickly
out of my control
and can never, ever
be tainted by what comes after.

..