"her life and my art"
her life had none of her art
and her art had little life.
but her life was nonetheless
a brush fire beside a wishing well
underneath a loud overpass
where poets roast each other
on a winter's solstice
caught forever in Saturn Return
never to see daylight again
and that vision of her life is my art
so we are even and thankful to have each other.
I must say your blog is a fortunate find! Your words accompanied by your voice your poetry comes alive! Purely magical. I think I should stay awhile, as I am enjoying my visit.
ReplyDeletethank you for your visit. i have been to your blog and revisit often now. here's to a continuing discussion. write on.
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