Sometime ago I found myself sitting in the noisy cafe around the corner from my house. It was still summer, but the light was waning. The changing seasons capped what had been a difficult few months for me. I had gone there mostly to get out of the house, with the intention of working on some sketches. Instead, I found myself hastily scribbling a poem which was unusual because, although I ready poetry from time to time, had never thought to write one. Anyway, in short order, one burst forth, like the all the times a poorly chosen thought had left my mouth, and hung heavy in the room, like an uninvited guest. Throughout the fall, poems arrived, appearing in the living room, on a walk, or wherever they chose. Sometimes, I'd find strings of words, hanging out on the corner. I'd pass by, perhaps crossing the street, only to find a phrase in my mailbox. Before long they were everywhere.
In occurred to me at some point that I may pass them on, out the door, maybe to the maintenance man or the girl that walks her dog at 7 AM. Clinging their pant legs like hitchhiker thorns. So resolved, I folded some up into neat packets before leaving them on random park benches or under someone's windshield wiper. Fortunately for me a good many disappeared this one, although one returned, coming to be stapled to a telephone pole near my house.
Since you happen to be here, and have read this far I wonder if I might peddle a few off to random viewers. And since I can't seem to make a "Works in Prose" button on my navigation pane, for the time being you'll find them here, perhaps tomorrow, or the next day.