Words

It’s really fucking
hard for me to throw
away words,

I have tons of books and someday
I’ll reread that one or perhaps
remember I want to remember
a paragraph so perfect
I should have committed to memory.
often
when I’m in the throes of writing
a Poem, I grab a book,
a random page,
see what
jumps out at me

yeah, I’m really
stuck on words... I have
saved greeting cards from every
occasion, and if I started to be
selective now, where in heavens name
should I start? not the Mommy ones,
not the I love you wife ones (Liar!)
not the friendship, better days are here
cause I’m thinking of you, not the wish you
were here postcards with that unforgettable sunrise
and palm trees (of course, received in 10 degrees
below zero, with snow up my arse. I remember
I could almost smell the ocean, feel the warm
breeze & sun on my back) but I digress, and it’s
white outside, and I’m left with places I have
never gone.

No, I shall keep them all,

like I keep old emails and stories of gurus & lovely,
significant words, inspirations to the depth of me.

Yes, I’m a wordaholic,
I hoard words in every shape
& form,
typeset & style,
and I rue the day when I shall
run out...

nothing left to say
in my dying breath,
as if the word “I” never existed.