My words begin tied to the paper. Safe -Ordered-
Purposely placed. There, they enjoy time under tension;
surface tension where ink is clasping to treated wood.
Then, are filtered repeatedly by the reader.
Once read, I no longer claim them.
I’m simply an agent; volunteering them to dangle
loosely in the air around us.
Take the words. Rearrange them. Gravity is but one force 
holding them. Shuffle them into your language 
to extend their shelf life. Juggle them between friends.
They originate as one articulated moment.
Perspective to paper -Paper to voice -
Voice to interpretation.
I sacrifice them to a journey with no guarantees except risk.
Their return is unscheduled and unrecognizable.


B.Toner   April 2023

For me, regrets awaken late mornings
When I realize so many clouds have rolled past the horizon 
While I lie between covers 
Resting in the aftermath of slumber
Unprepared for the day’s charges 
I sweep them into corners 
Out of my footpath
Rare my dawns with vigorous intent

Why impose penance for my pace?
After all, birds begin with one single note 
Inviting their lot to harmonize gradually
They pose, they linger before first flight
Plants unfurl imperceptibly, leaning ever so slowly to the light
Their energy is internal, gradual, soundless
Even our sun creeps leisurely 
Infiltrating our shadows without sudden movement
Perhaps my rhythm is innate, necessary 
My body transitioning through natural states
Perhaps guilt need not be my ally for my lack of velocity
For early hours’ unaccomplished assignments
Perhaps I can take solace in nature’s pattern - 
Intent independent from speed
Perhaps I’ll remain longer between covers 
Resting in the aftermath of slumber

B. Toner April 2023