Something or Nothing

Something or Nothing

There’s always someone the poem is built for,
in my case anyway. Fine-tuned and properly
threaded, or sometimes just thrown together
in a shambles, words on words like literary
chaos but all mean something in the end for
someone important, these words don’t just
appear from nowhere. They’re crafted and
cultivated, grown with care and with care
they are selected when they become ripe
and ready to join and juxtapose on simulated
paper, transported through the air passing as
electronic particles from its creation to its
destination and by optical receptors it is
received and passed along a highway of
nerves through the brain and through the body
now just a sensation and no longer words, as
if nothing was ever there.