Let's dance...
Don't read ...
my poems are dead
much as I am dead

Don't lament ...
wail for nothing
no elegiac, burnt-out flame

Do read ...
my poems sprout
in loam imaginings

Where more and more pinings
reach into wanderings

Do read ... my poems
are companionable
travel along, amiable;

they read with you
and read along, as
you write new poems
with sighs and breaths

write for yourself a poem
as you read mine--
tracing my thoughts
lingering to be etched
in your delving mind,
branding your very soul!

Don't read your poems,
they dance forever, with mine
and at a verbose banquet, dine.