When a Poet Dies
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What do you do when a poet dies?
When Maya died Oh how I cried.
Who will give us the words from the other side.
A poet, a scribe, a teacher, a preacher, a...
Saturday, December 13, 2008
the po~et 11 (the 4th of July)
Her internal humidity has made the air thick. She's having a hard time breathing. Her heart beat is irregular. She is sure that the experience is new. Her body feels vibrant as if life has just begun. He has indoctrinated her--into what she isn't sure. She has never been attracted to anyone like him. Uncertain of the rules, she finds it difficult to know how to express how she feels, but she is sure that this wasn't going to fade away. She thinks of how she feels when fireworks fill July's night sky or when the sun kisses the earth good night. The possibility to live outside of herself and have control excites her.
Unfortunately she can only dream of being with him and work up the courage to approach him. This is only permissible in her dreams. The episodes are continuous. She allows them to take her places where she hasn't been able to find an entrance into. Places outside of the body where the ground has no gravity and the air consistency elates the senses. She prays no one discerns the unfolding drama playing out behind the curtain. It is her secret world and one she is not prepared to exit.
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