i have a responsibility to the word like weeders have a reverence for the herb …they say the sensitive do drugs cuz we find it hard to deal with harshness cuz it’s alien to us cuz we are not of this flesh world. i am Really sensitive and words are my drug ..a daily habit have i craving creative conjunctions to cram or bind together my multi-threaded thoughts then i read back my own lines mostly disgusted at their design cuz i don’t want to attach my name or any alias to any scribbles less than perfection …not that i ever get there but i know the neighborhood… but for real you almost didn’t see these rhymes i must write a line a day but when they grow up to be poems most times i would rather throw them away i have to force myself to share these inadequacies these whispers of the words i really mean and because of my Obsession i will never ever see that perfection i am fixated on these letters that spill out of my pen much more slowly than i write and so i spend most of my day frightened that i won’t get to a pen or keyboard quickly enough to catch the dust that falls off my thoughts and forms the poem you’re reading now …i seek the solace of the alphabet as a baby seeks the breast of its mother not in awe of the a to z itself but of

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