looking for space:

it takes some distance to reflect,
to stop, think, process, wait.
admitting  you are wrong is one thing,
what you do to address it is
another thing entirely.

some people talk a good game,
revealing little except results.
both playing cards close to the chest,
& from beneath the table.

what’s the point in just speaking,
about things you want to do.
when these things could already be removed
from the lists you’ll never write.

before the paper peels,
the train is missed,
& dreams are out of date.

time spent treading water,
isn’t wasted when,
you use it to survive.

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Filed under † † †, bad poetry, beginning, words, writing

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