mouthful, fistful, earful.

I want to write
about these words.
They dance, they tease
They spring from corners
with themselves mighty pleased,
quickly disappearing before you catch 'em.
This inability to capture is loathsome
The words, they're running through my head
but refusing pen and paper dictum.
Here I bend, my mind’s so Zenned
I find the keys clicking.
The words, they won’t come.
The finger-tapping, un-ending.
All I want is a poem.

’nuf said and much more done.
Thought and deed represent themselves.
The missing musketeer tried his tricks,
trapped in a world of logic.
T'is indeed strange,
a difference of statue and clay,
when stringing words for a poem
how one hems about.
Emails seem like strays.
A hashed attempt at vocabulary,
Severely fraught with the unmeaningful.
“I do appreciate your extraordinary concern,
but I must aver that it is unwarranted.
The cause of trepidation
is but a minor point d’jour.
While we recognize the value of your unease,
Rest assured that this disquiet is unfounded.”
Too many words and no soul.