He went on-line

to see if his blog was

still fine,

because he had a note

about a few words

he wrote.

The positive comment

was about his poetic

brevity

and how refreshing just

a few words could be.

It turns out the poem in

question

wasn’t a poem at all

but rather information

about a problem so small

which when corrected

the brief message could

be disconnected.

Just then he looked from

the page to the T.V. and

heard that when a heart

stops beating,

the blood pools and then

starts receding

from extremities

back to the heart

from where it got

its start.

He thought about that

for a while

and imagined his

bloody words

receding from the

page back to his heart

where they got their start.

His heart had stopped

beating

and the poetic brevity

wasn’t worth repeating

for then it would

no longer be brief

but simply a broken heart

filled with such deep grief

that the words wouldn’t

have another start.