Tapestry

Tapestry

even as it dangles

on the tip of my tongue

I’m aware that poetry

is unlike any other writing,

these patch-worked words,

bits,

pieces of

images lettered

together like

stitches of

thread, even when a strand

seems missing,

(completion),

even erratic, garment lay

intact, sporadic

piecing together of

quilted fragments,

patterns, layers, connections

frayed….

display a fabric of emotion,

funnel it, fold it, breathe in

a bit of self, exhale,

repeat,

take scissors to it, mark out

the cut lines, in ink,

bleed, purge, cut, stitch,

repeat,

these patch-worked

words,

bits,

pieces of

soul scribbled successive like

confessions,

fold it, funnel it, breathe in,

repeat,

exhalations across pages,

stages, tablets, keyboards,

fragments of mind

that never quite do justice

to the screams

wished

to be released,

leak, secrete, dispense, pour, spill

still convinced of

necessity, lyrical

dialysis, we heal

through this loosening

each time I let go of these words

an unfinished piece of me

becomes finished

[End Poem]

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet