There are too many love poems in the world.
 
It could be a conspiracy by Big Love
to sell saccharine devotional inventories.

Maybe literary prestige and ambition 
inspire in the novice poet a dream
which can only be described in verse.

I think it was a basic way to test my cleverness–
the way an artist learns to master perspective,
then learns to break 
the expectations of the viewer
and folds this knowledge into their craft.

It’s simply human.
  
One hopes we all experience love,
and maybe some of us try to distill that love 
into something that insists the world know,
  
“I am here–
and I love in all the ways I know how.”