Spouted

a poem sent to this place so that words around it
can be felt nestled in their settle. but please,
relief, gambit, looking on. there is much and
retrieval. too often a poem escapes, tided over.
too often there is an underline at the wrong time.
who are we reading tonight? the work is simple and
shifting with breath. this is a beautiful
conveyance. I wish a poem could.