How do you write?

Are you trying to restate what you have read?
Are your words the smell from a fine dinner?
Or the tail of the comet?
If there are enough words, will someone care?

If you write a book, you might educate.
If you write a paragraph, you might get them to think.

Do your words dance with each other?
Will they lie together in bed?
Will they find room in a soul?
Or are they dust on a page?

Sometimes words bleed.
Sometimes you can taste them.
Sometimes they are the air in your lungs.
Sometimes the sounds of buffeting winds.

The words want to be free of the electric brain cage
And once again sense the world for themselves.

But I can be a lazy jailer when it comes to opening cells
And freedom is not what jailers understand.

Dana Sanford

Poet. Philosopher. A sense of Humor. 60 years ago I rode the winds at the top of a tall cottonwood. Buy me a coffee @

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