Message to Readers



December 15, 2018


You do not understand how long I have waited
To write this. 
You've made a fool out of me-
I read love poetry
Online, and found I could now quite
Enjoy it-
Not sparingly, as an isolated case of a dreamer
Who had once been played by dreamlessness;
It had been bleak,
To yearn, unpracticed or non-esteemed
And the mirror trusted me not. 

Those bruises stood me up. 
In my dreams- resting on dreamlessness-
A red branch scalded me silly. 
And where, do tell, had it struck
Once more?

I write this not to 
Smoulder the great loftiness of this meandering, scary 'adorning'
Between other such embellishments. 
I write this not to
Feed, at once, the beast in my stomach
Who interprets from a job well done
My trashiest self esteem. 

I write this for you-
Understand, still
That a slight of hand can be well practiced with vigour or nature
So as to malform intentions
Ones which I flatten out
And view now, opulent as it were
Each thread mapped from neurosis
Attractive and thin as foil; 
How it is my barricaded loving
Wherein my transcription
Of ecstatics
this is a love poem


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