When the Gun Sounds

When the time is right

I sit by myself

Not influenced by anyone else

When stillness falls

The murmur of verse

Squirms loaded from its bottomless mouth

When the gun sounds

I become possessed

Set off by its trigger

Like a bullet

Words move toward their target

Transformed into a sharpened grave-digger

As long as the gap of conscious thinking remains

As long as the tap remains opened

As long as I remain sequestered

I can cohort with invisible forces

And witness painful but beautiful birth