Thanks

If someone made a pen for you
   With a copper bezel
Then it would make copper
   Halos in harsh shadows
   When you wrote in Texas sun
You could spin the pen and imagine
   exploring space as Saturn’s rings gave way to the universe
At certain angles an old album plays
   its ridges hinting of earth.

Your Instantaneous Self


because you are a poet
and I love you
and I know you love words
are what to you?
images
sounds
a long canyon with brown walls
vanishing to a speck
How about a cross section of blue
would it wave
would stars come out

Or are words an interpretation of
a shadowy tempest
that follows you around
swirling with symbols
that hint at
your instantaneous self

Do you reach in
and arrange these
runes
and pressures
into an ancient sentence
that glows while dancing

Do words make that make sense?


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