what happens is-i get contacted by-the families of recently deceased
their mother /brother/lover has recently moved on
and left behind a box of poetry.Usually close folk
are unaware of this intimate interest,and ask me(for my address
is clearly printed on everything i publish(-why it is
this interest was hidden.I do not say this world of war kills peace
I dare not mention the healing power of incantations like these
Nor do i connect the dots that link all words to love
I simply ask survivors to read what is left
Mostly they do not understand.
They return the books after examination(like Customs
and i have never been able to fully explicate
why love of life may not extend it.
PROPHECIES /POESIES
we all dream.sleep.talk.listen.eat this world we live within
some write to explicate.Their wordworks live with them
to be forgotten when they are gone.I am rich in dreams!
I have boxes of clouds,tempests ,smoke and mirrors.
It takes up space and time waits for me to finish this one.
There may not be time for any magnum opus.Still less for us
to edit into the marvelous.It is enough to cast this net into the deep
to bring in lines of stranger fish-of colors ,shapes and forms
both miniature and Leviathan.HERE BE DRAGONS!
and ,if i sleep,they curl within me
ready and awake to make prophecies like fire and ice
alternating currents to our battery powered lifetimes.
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