I Won't Say I'm A Purist

I am a liar

 

On most days I am a fraud

 

I don’t have words

That do fancy things

 

But ive always enjoyed the view

Of those who do

 

For a moment

I am at a party among people who

can say things well, alone, but glad to be there

 

My hairs a rat

That needs a combing

 

I have special spiders 

that crawl in the brain itching for

 

shapes and ornate things to get me through

the day

 

My bed lay here, disheveled , in a mess

with books that cry at night

 

And there on the shelf

With the Buddha and candles

and the dime sized stone from that hippie

jewelry maker on the way to San Antonio

This attempt

To be at peace with not believing

in anything too deeply.

 

 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

sometimes writers feel the need to believe in something so strongly..and when they feel confusion coming from their pens, they feel as frauds...
your words are quite real...and the introspection you do in your pieces causes others to look at themselves and wonder why they don't believe in anything too deeply....
we need shapes of thoughts to get us through the day.