(i am)

(i am)

drinking cold coffee left over from late morning's brewing

smoking dry cigarettes for how they hang from my lips

like they somehow make me look that much more the writer


(i am)

thinking how i want to do (with you) like neruda wrote of spring inhabiting cherry trees

remembering lines by frank o'hare

remembering the lines of the girl who exclaimed "each day i am something new" - forgetting the poet who penned her into being


(i am)

recalling every time when i thought i might never breathe again

which is exactly right now why i know i can exhale quite freely

knowing what i want

uncertain of how to get it

determined to not repeat past ways of running


(i am)

wondering how it is that most of the best lines are in songs

but how poems never work well when sung

and how saul williams has this crazy poem about love that makes me say "hell yeah"

and punch my fist in the air to show my belief


(i am)

wooled down in a blue cardigan that would make mr. rogers proud

and contemplating how much is too many when it comes to leather wrist bands

and how im certain i need more

but not with studs


(i am)

reminding myself i really must do something about eating

as its something i keep forgetting

reading my horoscope on every site possible

with hopes of finding one that tells me what i want to hear

even redrawing reshuffling till i read my ideal spread

and then mumble "yes yes so true. wow these things are so right!"


(i am)

here on a friday not wondering too much about saturday

twittering about nothing to no one

hoping that someone tweets back

for one second making today so exciting


(i am)

listening to what the air is saying

how the trees are changing

and what i think i know

is about to happen


all of this while

still holding cold coffee in my mouth.


- kim thompson. friday. afternoon sometime. seoul. s. korea 11 feb