Her poetry was like a living organism that changes form every minute by the chemical change it undergoes within me, the reader's mind, each avatar did a dance different so much the symbols and cryptograms spoke right from time capsules of subconscious, I had to choose from this or that. I looked deep in to her eyes and read silently words, one feels are severely limited, at times much goes unexpressed for want of words "exquisite" in such occasion is an expression that has lost its sharp edges, due to overuse so i smiled, I hope in a way most expressive of the spirit the poem reflected but more was in the poem, I sure felt, beyond my view, some hidden pathways exist my ears craved for hidden voices, and I told her this evening set the stage for her recitation we walked the country road and she began very solemn at first, then the words took a life of their own and became palpable I felt I was in presence of an oracle who receives divine command from universe a spirit that sprung from subconscious was heard speaking in her throbbing words the folk walking the path stood and listened, the look on those faces were unmistakable a knowing beyond the meaning it was.
Poetry has to be read, but also to be listened to.