Day and night,
Driving home late,
Or rising from the edge of sleep,
Sudden delicate insights
Appear to crystallize,
A fragile architecture
Of words and images surge
in my brain.
Hurriedly,
Visions must be recorded,
Profound communications written down
In a rush of creative energy.
Dice thrown from the corners of the mind,
Spill on the street,
As the urban sprawl traffics rebuke of the
poet’s intent
scattered in black on white
across the page
A jumble of accidents and impotence.
THH
7/26/24
Thoughts Have Hands 