karen 2012 on a poem?

And what is a poem
I ponder
….as I reach over to the side of the tub
where the paper lays,
for where but a tub
can a great work be created..

soaking in the womb of lifes water
baptizing for the night
 
a poem, is not a poem, for I write not in sonnet or verse
shall we consider, it instead a summonnsing….of creation
creation that is the greater part of me,

I may also lean back into the water, and splash my face, and gone is that moment

Where the words were flowing 
through me, as if with the understanding of how a blind person can see

Or must I simply wait, because I want to extend the orgasmn of life, 

and feel again it coming through me.

The feeling of love, surquestering my 
heart , making the senses of taste, feel, touch, see one that can be traded for 
that which can hear.
As if I can be listening to music and seeing the reflections of life and I 
instead see the music……

If I don’t wait, I can be tricked, I can reach for my pen, and instead my mind 
would  create an idea that I wanted to come to me, a seed who found not soil to 
develop. So a notion, a fantasy, a story….

And that’s ok too cause that’s also a part of me, but I don’t engage in them 
with pen.
 
And to love god fully, does that make me David crying the psalms to return to 
his likeness,
And whose the cleif musician anyway?