Day 8

Exploding Reams

“every sound we make is a bit of autobiography”- Anne Carson


once I was born a butterfly

and every wing step was possible from zero

with each a numberless ripple

running outwards in an echo

shouting at clouds to drip

and elbowing all parallel windows


immediately done

every sound is passed

in the tense present

uttered… just gone


every sound we make

is a scrolling autobiography


the thought of my aunt was followed

by her telephone call – who called

who first?

the ripple met the opposite bank

and waved back to me


and all our pain is an inhale

with love breathing back out


in the past minute I leave reams

of fragile paperless traces

the story of breath and steps

the story of love and pain

and each of us has senses to read

the other


in every second breath our stories

double and shimmer

every step claims more territory

than we can ever imagine.


all this clamour only closes down

in the wail and whimper of our ending



Saffron – April 2020


Peruse the work of one or more of these twitter bots (I chose and use a line or two, or a phrase or even a word that stands out to you, as the seed for your own poem.