M. Hank

I used to walk into a theater and it was salvation.

Stage lights and people who filled up a room, 

I was happy to watch them for hours.

I wanted to become some part of that

some part of the instant admiration

Good morning, sunlight like syrup

Touching every dew-streaked blade

Of grass and puddle of drying mud.

Good morning, air that smells of spring,

Air that sounds

Spring is blooming 

around me, 

the trees flushing pink, 

the wildflower-shaped freckles 

scattered throughout the grass 

growing darker, brighter 

with the sun; 

Lying awake at midnight, watching as each blade of the fan spins around, one by one. My bed absorbs me as I think, "hey, maybe I should write something".

On the windowsill 

He sat, 

Staring at the sky, 

Writing words 

Known only in his head, 

Leaning against a reflection, 

Watching the moon,