You see, it’s in the compression
Word girdles shape the story
The terminus of sentences
Keep it short and sweet

Because now it’s all quite dull
And even boring
But when we’ve perfected yesterday
You can make your mind up faster

It takes too long
To explain

Wait to see
The final product
It’s still a work in progress

And you can find me
Missing pieces
Because there’s never
Enough time
Not enough to live
Through it all again
To tell the whole tale

It’s about the final edit
I heard that a man said
He liberated an angel
Who he found in marble
When he got his chisel out

It’s about what you take away
And where the whitespace sits
What nothingness is in your day
The rice beside the meat

We war for footnotes
Authorship to stamp our names
And take credit for the past
On broader giants’ shoulders

Because not everyone gets to come
To see the future
But this way
We are contracted for a while
And here’s a thing I made

And you can find me
Missing pieces
Because there’s never
Enough time
Not enough to live
Through it all again
To tell the whole tale

April 4, 2025 | Filed under Prose.