Consciousness abates, as memory
Navigates
Self absorbed rhythms
Self generated times
A word… my love, brings me home
A test perhaps
A Tome?
Tombé? (rhymes with djembe by the way)
——
My friend (from a very rhythmic family) is expecting a boy.
The boy is to be named…
Djembe (rhymes with tombé by the way)
I’m just waiting for the other one…
To fall
Ba dum bum!
——
The other day while driving to work, I was entertaining myself with totally random, free association “poetry”.
I found my voice reflexively adopting an affectation that I can’t help but think of as, what I would call “pho-snobbery”.
Is that oxymoronic? (was that question rhetorical?)
I shared my pho-snobbish thoughts with my sweetheart this morning and I could hear her smile.
We then spoke of our respective preconceptions surrounding how we tend to think about poets and poetry.
Several of our recently shared media (I so love it that we do this) have included the words of poets and I mentioned how this is what inspired my recent experimentation with random, free-form, phrasal verbalizing.
And why not?
Perhaps I’ll write a poem, or even perhaps…
A blog post.
——
Blessed…
m(___)m
