to write a poem about him but the words bang around in my head and I end up writing all over the paper like a child. Words and lines and drawings are everywhere, but those words and lines and drawings don’t makes sense emotionally (my way) or logically (his way).
The words just won’t seem to come together yet. That’s quite frustrating to a writer.
Somewhere wrapped in all of these papers filled with jumbled words and cloudy thoughts, is a great poem. I’m sure of it. Because love this big and sadness this strong is the stuff great poems are made of.