for amy on her birthday

can we sit down and write about a larger meaning
or do we just simply write and by accident stumble upon it
our skin cells and blood
dead messengers
like stars
that seep inside the fiber of modern skin
ruled and lined for precision and error
glorious error
that guides us past the intellect and our own fractured beliefs
towards something lesser and greater than truth
the meaning of truth
the words that can’t fit inside the lines
but hide in the margins
waiting to be found by those who know where to look
or by those who, like us, simply stumble upon it

Submit a comment