Quatrains With No Rhimes

Cement word by word I connect one idea to another idea scribble verse with verse I build a bridge poem ... I caress my spirit with words of honey so poetry always licks me with candy ... The verses, all sowing same as seeds in the field feather the poem I treat, best the fruit of poetry ... Poetry without birds in the field, without toads and frogs in the pond, without desert, sand, blood in the vein, would that be poetry, life ... would it be ...? I throw a stone, sketch the effort, I throw a word, absorb the gesture, I get milk from the stone and as pretext of this dynamic, dialectical poem I do ...!