Time Zone

I’m in a different time zone when I’m writing.
Everything slows down.
There dare not be interruption,
still the same demand.
I do not like to be bothered,
lose my train of thought.
For me, writing is a daily need
like urination.

Writing poems is like making jam:
ingredients are of prime importance,
the height of flame,
constant stirring lest the sugar burn
and jam be eventually thrown out,
forever lost.

Poems require cooking
sometimes for years,
require mutual agreement
of thought and sound.
Or there comes a change
in what the poem is about.
You live with doubt

as form and content rearranges
or, perhaps, the sound.
You ask are the images correct.
If read aloud,
is the reader likely to stumble.
After all, the sound
makes clear the verbal intent
and is meant to clinch it.

Sound supports emotional intent
as images clarify meanings,
pictures sent and sound
are meant to verify the experience,
not so much the facts,
but the verity
of shared emotional experience.