mean more to me than pile of bricks
mean more to me than slung sticks

I forgot my own words, kept in silence they were...
stored in darkened rooms held tight within boxes and bindings
ring tied they were, shut and cloistered
unshared



After 20 brief years... the box has been delivered into mine own hands. The one box that represents the synthesis of stored memories. Opened it was and revealed not only glistening images from days gone past but pages upon pages of words.

The original writings, the first copies
the ideas that first strung out from mine own mind.

I have a lot of reading ahead of me. Hard to concentrate. Hard to sit with one volume and go over it... sentence after sentence. So many poems... so much... and this collection represents what may have been my most prolific period... but not my most effective as far as compositional skills are concerned. But, valuable and insightful (and meaningful) none the less.