Poetry and Reality, Form and Immateriality

If poetry's taught me anything,

it's that reality's uncertain.

A glancing dance between multiple paths

of words to be spoken.

At any mark, at every line,

through-composed to keep the time,

tenuos thoughts, momentary predilections,

threaten and enact established and varied syntactic variations.

If poetry's taught me anything,

it's that my mind drifts-that's a fact.

But the thoughts and emotions that I feel

unconscious murmings and vague inspirations

the fanasies of the day and the dreams of the night

exalted by their raw being and height

find form, take form

(when written down on a page full of creases and indentations).