Crawling Out from Under

Many have
asked

How do you
find time

to write so much.

It is done
in the slivers
and spaces

of life;

between the
hearing of the shower starting

and the brewing of
their hot chocolate,

between the slicing and
the frying of their potatoes
In the buttery pan,

between the first and
second dream of deep REM sleep.

The words get planted
and swim around a bit

and get themselves out
onto paper

crayfish crawling themselves out backward onto gravel

from under that rock.

The hard part is learning to
see them

and pick them up!

Too many years have I spent

discarding the crushed
ectoskeltons trapped in my sneaker tread.

If someone tells you
there is no difference in potatoes fried in butter or
fried in oil, don't believe them.

The first requires more studious attention;

And that,

has made ALL the difference!