I posted this poem first on my other blog, hoboharmon.blogspot.com

TRAMPOLINE

A few months to create this

our collection, Celebrating Sound.

patience with myself for

no knowledge, no workbook

of how to do this.

Fear in fingers,

Fear in sitting still,

Fear to decide,

Fear to get critiqued.

This is my manuscript

my rough draft to the world.

I know how to do THIS.

I AM your reader.

I am the paper gatherer.

I secured these poems,

originals in your red faded folder

from New Mexico to New Jersey.

I made photocopies at my job

26th floor at Source Media,

knowing they were my treasure.

A lifetime to honor us,

our story,

we share the stage.

I keep learning, asking questions

continue Celebrating Sound.

I am live speaker of your magic

word weaver of our conversations

extender of our love.

This book is trampoline,

This book is mixture

facts experiences memories

mistakes

my errors

my love

my fear of how to do it right.

This book is every day I prefer different pieces.

I mix and match sentences,

take stanzas from our poems when I

perform, read aloud

like tops and skirts

poetry pants in my wardrobe

mixed with your embellished velvet

with our turquoise concho bracelet.

Imperfect art here I am.

Imperfect creator of tribute,

imperfect editor of stricter,

vessel of preparation and

spontaneity

I am.

Passionate

To be here with you and take this higher,

this combination of our artistry, Mom!

I own the rights

to my family.

I am take me to another place.

I hope you will learn with me,

dear reader, audience member!

Love me flawed

Read me flawed

as I love myself

as I explore our relationships further.

I am curator of print

and spoken word.

What brings you pleasure, Jennifer?

The seeds of action, planting,

seeing the flowers grow,

my confidence,

my honesty.

Decisions of what to present,

I let go of what's not included today.

satisfied-correct in my desire

acceptance

of every minute every word

a gift.