"What inspires you?"
He asks as her eyes begin to light up
She starts thinking about
all the worlds that her imagination
has led her to
and all the places
real, and fictional,
that she longs to see.
Her mind shoots across the galaxy
and she thinks about
Poetry and Space
High fantasy adventures with elves and magic
Her eyes sparkle with stars
that could be other worlds
Far Far away
Her passions bubble up
with volcanic heat
she pictures all her heros
from Athena, to Bilbo
and he says again
"What inspires you?"
she says gently
"Are you sure you want to know?"

A bird in an aurulent billed mud-face,Living as a four foot two inch dragon in a San Franciscan cave,
Lifts off from a hot breathed murmur of Gideon.
Even in night the whole grandeur of movement
Soaking in red beeping heart-pangs
Fasten to the thrusts of his arms.
This post of vainglory was the opening of the year.
In July's open pores,
On a spatial plateau of Dodonian oak.
The Penguin
Unveils his weakened voice.
Flattening into a wide arrow
Draped from Carina he
Sails Westward. Barefooted through the Anavros
Molting under deep helplessness and melancholia.
With his inlaid eyes faced askance
The penguin broods
Among the day's songs
Cast into the poetry of the lyre,
Stretched upwards from Paradise Bay to Colchis,
Where his ebony wings
Soak into the palms of Peleus
Suffering only where the arrows have flung.
Downside up, with children in a pocket of blood,
Among supergigantic siren songs and muse poems
Sewing teeth into a spot of Earth
Races towards a column of toppling strakes.