you can do these things

grand strings
of mundane
thoughts
arrive
unheralded
unspeckled
by schemes
and dreams

unladen your beginnings
don’t write them
allow the sound
of an unplanned act
untracked
by fear or fact
be held
beneath shirts
and socks
and a basket
open and waiting

unclothe your thoughts
not even a parent’s eye
follow
the footfalls of a naked idea
run giggling
come back
like a fresh wind
tomorrow

like a note torn
in a pocket
sparks fly
something is born
edgy and alive
and you go
without leading
or being led
or even knowing
it’s unsaid