The Loss of a Poem of Heart and Soul
February 22, 2002

What was that lovely sentence written yesterday?

The one incredible first line.

The beginning.

A break from imagination that wouldn't allow me

to stop, but bring to a shine.

The civil course of action is to have it done.

Later - probably much later - a little annotation.

The results may not be the gift of great sound,

the arrangement may seem like your world

is a little warped, a little down.

To handle it: write from all places and vacant spaces.

May forces allowing any mind to stack further on

the ego, resolves for some importance of pinpoints

that will not delay the chart.

Especially in the middle of great thoughts.

© 2002 Jarrod C. Lacy

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There is true light and life in Africa

May 16, 2007

Someone, somebody, maybe someone all wrinkled and everything

sat me down and regaled stories of tribesmen, whose toes should be

tormented with ingrown nails, whose craggy feet should bear the right

to whine of bunions, hardened corns and calluses, old warts, unsightly

hammertoes and constant hectoring from heel pain.

This is because they travel by plain walks and runs, they hunt this way,

and the bold directness of their lives should be mirrored beyond the

mere travelling beams of accolades.

© 2007 Jarrod C. Lacy