Friday, April 6, 2012

swimming against disorder


I think what I know


I do not know what I think
until I think what I know,

in the actual marshaling of brain, heart, and will
to come up with what makes sense to me,
what comes out is as if
the need for words produces the words
as something inside puzzles out possibility
into what feels real and right,

the forks are there,
yet I only choose when I have to choose,
I only know which way to go
when my feet find themselves already on the way,

we throw words at it as if a name explains it:
intuition, something instinctive within,
a muse, something inspiring without,
“writer’s block” when it doesn’t work,

in this poem, I, too, am throwing words at it,
in awe of every little creation
when order swims against the dissolving current of disorder.

by Henry H. Walker
April 5, ’12

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