Redemption

I can't help it, I said, that when I sit down at a keyboard
Beautiful things flow through my finger tips
Not always, not even often
But sometimes

And sometimes is sufficient

I can't help it, I said, if when I open my mouth to speak
Half-formed foolishness tumbles out
It is not, as elder-wisdom would have you believe, for a lack of thinking before speaking
I spend my days and dreams thinking
In the gloaming, in the groaning

I love words

But my tongue betrays me
And my fingers, redeemingly, make beautiful things of
The thoughts I think

Not always, not even often
But sometimes

And sometimes is sufficient.