The hunger grows, the hunger depletes. We are passing through this earth, creating memories, writing poems that feed our spirits and nourish our earth. So many things we need to undertake, but only we know this. Only we need to listen and begin to execute. Which is why these poems are written. From where they come from, sometimes I have no clue as to how they transfer to paper, but they have become a natural extension of my thoughts, emptying through the grasp of my hands.

inasmuch, the consequences
unthought of, crossing the border
from morning ’til night–
the boundaries,
the million lifetimes to set
myself behind; only,
I believe, I know you
recognize my name
as I would your face
if I saw it again and again
a thousand different ways.
I cannot recreate what God
has already created
only you are the poem
in my hand that needs
to be written
and rewritten

-mr gahon 5/12/11


About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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