Chasing the Tail (Poetry)

I don’t go hunting for ideas —
they spring themselves upon me from the dark
where they’ve been stalking — growling
all these years
their shadows loping through the parallels
of thought alongside thought.

When they come close enough to view —
to almost touch with shape and size —
smell the possibility of capture —
they snare me with a line of words —
chain the unsuspecting to the page
and we wrestle for a while
carve out the space between us for invention —
make up another story
to satisfy some mutual hunger for another bite
of fantasy —
the never-was — the couldn’t-ever-be
is caged awhile
studied for its strangeness and originality —
a made-up beast
who bends imagination’s bars
exploits the gap reality has left just wide enough
for a quick escape.