Sonnet XVIII – Fear Not the Poet

Fear not the poet’s cryptic form or rhyme.

a lot of nerve – #SoCS

Different is good

graphs mean nothing now.

PTSD / doesn’t happen to me / that’s for soldiers / and survivors of abuse

so I seek the balance point / to speak my truth – and listen

oh, I know they are out there somewhere…

clearly the work of a child, not a master painter.

today I find myself on pause; at least I have been found.

The shoes, while fitting poorly, won me praise, but winning praise becomes a daily chore

lux perpetua luceat eis

sometimes changes /
seem random /
and without purpose. /.
those are the hardest to make. Truly.

Nail me. I’ll nail it.

I’ll dream it’s somehow magic
– not let science steal my joy

crossed wires start fires

peace can still be found but you have to look for it.

It’s good to get rid of the darkness.

sometimes poetry requires digging.

Today I live and stand in my own story.

sometimes it helps to think a clever theorem was at work

speechless wonder at the brutality of it all.

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