(Writing as the first thing I do when I wake is a very interesting wrinkle in my creative process. Day 205…)
You have the kind of greeting that sounds exotic
In another language
I know what you’re saying
But don’t know how to reply
Your halo has my thoughts scrambled
The holy in your hola leaves me silent in your presence like the h
I’m at the beginning
Hoping my exhales are the start of something.
Words get trapped in a labyrinth
I am the Mays
Trying to make contact
To say “hey”
And begin the journey around the bases.
But I just get caught looking…