good poems dont come from your head

they come from your hands

they are words flowing from the blood of our wrists

the stains of the past

broken memories

poems flow off your brain in the form of an idea

on a liferaft of jumbled words

dipping over paragraph palaces and stanza stampedes

and falling in a waterfall to your lips

where it is swallowed into your hands

that itch to pick up a pen and write it down

a poem  comes from the stains of blood on our unique memories and perspectives

a poem is stanzas built on the back of your nation and the things you believe in

a poem is a formal argument that pushes you into a crowded room

letting yourself be known through snapping fingers and paper and pen

and we try to be known.

we start young let it be with a movie or a video or a class assignment

we start young and grow up so fast

so far

so out of reach

poet breathe now adam gottlieb yelled out on stage inspiring me

a good poem i yell out on this stage inspiring you

on this stage

on this stage

do you know how many memories this stage holds?

not just from me who has been on this stage since 4th grade

no im saying what do the janitors have to say about this stage

what has this old worn down wood seen?

what have you seen?

let that idea on a liferaft of jumbled words flow from your hands

to the pen

to the paper

make every mark precise

make every stroke gentle

let this life raft see light

from your hand

to your pen

to your paper.