An imagination is
An image
In poetry

Seeing something
Is never
Like hearing it

She drinks from an ancient wellspring
-older than the rocks which cup it.

Deeper her thirst goes
-quenched for a fleeting moment.

A small poem from her heart
-flown from her wetted lips.

She drinks the skies
-the place her poetry finds freedom.

I am not an entity
In this world
Or in the next
I did not descend
From Adam and Eve
Or any origin story
My place is Placeless
A trace of the traceless




Rumi,,,

You think you're special
Special, you are, my dear
Look in the mirror,
You're one in a million
You have two eyes, a nose
Oh, and a mouth too
That spits venomous fire
Onto every soul that disregards
The beauty of your mind
The logic they cannot find
In your thoughts and your speech
But, oh, how you mind
Everything that makes sense to you, is beautiful
And all that fails to, non-sensical
Of course, you're one in a million
A copy-paste of a different kind

I don't know how to feel
It seems this isn't real
Our love so deep for years
Ended with bruises and tears
Now you're gone and dead
Relieving my feelings of dread

No more reasons to be afraid
No more asking me to get laid
No calls in the middle of night
No more arguing and fights
It's hard to be so sad
When what's gone is the bad

Yet, my love was deep
Your future I wanted to peep
Improvements I noticed were made
Can't make progress from the grave
So now I sit here bemused
Devastated. Relieved. Confused.