Once in a while I’ll feel as if I’ve been struck by new inspiration, that I can finally go forward with my work as a poet. This has yet to stick, however.
paper
I see you now
as if for the very first time
floating before my gaze
white—changeable as the clouds
full of reflection
clear—deep as a canyon pond
perhaps you’re a spring
gushed from furthest mystery
a taste—artesian
I see you now
suddenly as if never before
welling up on my eyes
sparkling clarity
bubbling hope
