accessibility

one of the things i always talk about, perhaps not so much in words, but in my whole manner of being, is accessibility.

the poets who know me, know i make this the plumbline.

but tonight, as i sat with world class musicians, who know me as poet, who give more more respect than those closest, i wonder.

what is accessibility?

what does it mean?

i see the creatives walking around in their own little bubbles. consumed with thought, idea, imagery. it is hard to penetrate this world. to even know how to let down the bridge for another to cross over.

and when one does, it's a wonderment (as one i love would say).

my bridge grows rusty, and i feel locked in, in many ways.

into what i cannot explain.

you have to have your own personal bubble to understand mine.

wrote a ton of poetry tonight. and i don't know if it is simply crap or if it is accessible. it's a curious thing to be around creatives who can draw that out. to be around souls who can throw down with me creatively.

it's been a longtime. a very long time since i've felt matched and my kindred is gone.

who then cares to understand
and how do i find the words for this place.