is this a poem, then?

by October 10, 2008 0 comments

words piled
in a stack
pancakes of the mind,
scattered thoughts
in a neat pile.
sensibilities misdirected,
theme uncertain,
eyes on fire
with ideas, allergies.
hungering for food
or love.
coffee untouched
waiting for a
reasonable temp
before i kiss the mug.
is this a poem, then?
is this all that creativity
asks of me? that i
pile words,
arrange chaos
with clickety-clack
finger rhythms,
stack my thoughts
and call myself
a poet?

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