There! A sentence. A line!
I did it! I started.
Amazing!
Now to focus on the point.
What’s the point?
Wait! Here’s the point.
….. and many more points.
Period.
The Pity of Punctuation
of Punctuation
Hoard of words released like manic
spring with its quick gush blooms of bright
where endings have not even a small chance
life forever resurrecting itself without the monster
splotch which when shrunken to depressed
the psychoanalyst calls the period
of realization and the patient hangs on
for her dear however listless
existence like a hyphen at the end
of its rope searching for its dropped
letters like I wait and hold my breath
for my letter that the male carrier might bring
with the possible swerve of love
before any wall of stiff brackets
and the unforgiving is embedded
into the type you know the type
where false hope lies in the dash and never forget
the pun how could one for therein
lived the fun when it was lost inside
me as my body and all punctuation
was temporarily erased eight years ago
same as the symbol of eternity
in April that whore month
with its hoard of all that is
possible while the sun slowly pitched itself
into the lake and he left and suddenly
too many commas crawled in carrying
colons with their screaming litanies of lists
and question marks with WHYWHYWHY
on their small hooked spineless backs
and the parade would not stop
until finally the period did roll in so bleak
and yet what a tiny thing it was
as I began to feel the fade into
the seamless midnight sky
with my being given
no choice but to curve onto that dot
and disappear with it
http://connection.ebscohost.com/c/poems ... unctuation
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