I have this

      idea

  when words are committed

we end up obliged

           so I might

send one to you

     expressions in prose

like a stream

feeling a driving urge

to channel its path

               by pulling and slapping

water to settle soils

                         the words are my gravity

grappling with notions

tossing me towards you

lists, and pools

           conscious interpretation

and sodden soils

       attitudes prevail

You settle in

and watch my words unfold

             a warm spring evening

             moonlit serene

             taste my words

fresh and reckoning

1995