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
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 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.