Each time I try, the words stop and stutterTrying to figure out the rhyme in my cocoonI think of a scene, slather the thoughts with butterThe beauty and synthetic break of solitude. I think of math, count the wordsPushing through paper maturedExploration avant-gardeExploitation of the sword CalculateBring the wordsThree, seven, twelve at a time The …

Continue reading I don’t know how to poem, but I know how to grow flowers.