I like to write again
about those things that we’ve talked about
and sometimes even those non-important things
about life, how it flows like water to the ditch,
to the drain, to the mud, to the pavement, to the grass
or into the cupping hands of youth
i like to hunt every day for words, then keep them, use them,
eat them, save them, and there are times
i just send them away.
what I like are only simple things; all those
I think about; all those you say; all life around us
written on pieces of paper
what i like are those things that make me mad, really,
those that shit and hone.