If these words were food,

April 30, 2022

If these words were food, I'd steal a snack with each poem I'd ever read

I'd be caught nibbling pages from the counter or leaving letter traces on dog-eared paper beds

I'd be munching rhymes, false or otherwise, but then maybe, just maybe, what I'd do, instead:

I'd share this meal of intangibles, a morsel of string, a resonance, a shared experience, here, where we are, inside the writers' thread