I take the exit marked nothing,the one with a number no one bothers to remember,because the road doesn't care where I'm going,it only keeps opening.
Three in the morning, the gas station sits therelit up like it's waiting for someone in particular.I buy a coffee I know I won't finishand fold the map wrong on purpose,so the creases don't match anybody's route.
A deer stands at the shoulder,not running, not grazing,just deciding.I ease off the gas. I understand her completely.
I am not lost. I know exactly where I am:forty-one miles from a town I invented,pointed at a horizonthat keeps selling itself a little furtherevery time I get close.
Somewhere behind me, a bedstill holds the shape I left in it.Somewhere ahead, a gas stationI haven't picked yet.
I keep my foot steady on the pedallike the going is the arriving,like enough miles might finallyadd up to somewhere.
About free versePoetry without a set rhyme scheme or regular meter, shaped by the poet.
Free verse has no fixed rhyme scheme or regular meter, so there is no rule to check it against. That does not mean it lacks craft. The poet chooses where lines break, how long they run, and what repeats, and those choices shape it.
Listen for Where each line ends, and how that break changes the way you hear it.
74 poems in this form →@marisol
I don't really follow rules, I go where my heart takes me.
8 poems · 6 readings received · 9 written · 0 followers
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