S e c r e t s of S i l e n c e


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S e c r e t s of S i l e n c e

The ultimate tragedy is not to live an uneventful life
But to be oppressed by noise
And never know the dearness of silence
The good friend who never betrays
The love between the words

That is the poetry of experience
It does not require to be bullied into commotion
It can be introverted and define itself
Without judgement or explanations
The ultimate tragedy is then

To live in the constant self-ruminations
That does not shut up, projections and various falsehoods
Silence is freedom, never forget this!
Silence does not lead to God
But to the stars where silence is in the light

In the way life forms on planets and takes
Millions of years to mature
Silence is then the miracle of waiting
Of being patient until decedent divinity
We must not take sides, silence

Is the pure neutrality, the great objectivity
That won’t follow littleness of selfhood
But rather the great Mother
The thoughts that turn back to the Ocean
Where the human heart is not broken

Into a billion ideas and condemnations of right or wrong
Silence is to follow your nature
That expresses an inexpressible music
And has a darkness of adequate instinct
Silence is better than nearly all words

Than the idea that words and labels can save us
Words only ornament and elaborate
But never explain, they cannot do that
But silence can, that is why it is ancient and sought
By the seeker who know that truth and beauty are illusions.

I Audition to become Asian


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I Audition to become Asian

I am white, but I love Asia
Mandarin is my second language
Korean dramas are my favourite media
I admire the rise of a people
Who are more industrious

Who age better and respect the collective
As noon every day I wonder
Why I live in a French City
When it’s Asia that I love
But, the truth is, I’ve a lot to learn

From Japan, India, Korean, China
I’m not Asian so there is so much
I do not understand, about the East
Being a western, I cannot pronounce
Their names or name their cities easily

I still have trouble differentiating faces
But the first step in becoming
A world citizen, is forgetting our last name
Forgetting where our ancestors happened
To breed and farm and fish

We are one people, but the Asian
Ones stand out to me, like a younger ambition
Born of ancient traditions
I recognize the future is Asian.

We Can Make O u r L i v e s Sublime 


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We Can Make O u r L i v e s Sublime

Sweet soul, in mournful numbers
We dwindle like a lost tribe
With the beauty of dead slumbers
And life’s earnest poetry to dust returns
In our voices that will not climb

The days and decades to come
Our psalms to beauty
Will not say \time is fleeting\
Art is long and love endures
The past lives in shadows here

In our heart that holds the mystery
Of all that was great and all
That can learn and labour and wait
The poetry that is the true music
Of the human spirit pursing itself.

WordPress votes for their Favorite Poets


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Hey Everyone,

We gather here today to celebrate truly inspiring poets on WordPress, please be generous with your votes to the poets you prefer.

We have enough nominations, to start voting. Please read some of our entries and vote for multiple poets you prefer.

Simple go to the link and browse these poets on WordPress:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/WTZT9X9

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Please share this post if you think it’s a good idea. You may also keep nominating people we can add to the list.

Favorite Wordress Poet


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Hey Everyone,

We all perhaps have favorite poets we read on WordPress, if you are a poet the chances you read other poets on here and support them is pretty high. Please nominate individual poets and provide their wordpress URL and we’ll add them to our list.

Once we have enough nominations, we’ll open the voting. You can nominate yourself too, perhaps you can get a bit more traffic.

Then read them and we can vote for our favorites. You’ll be able to vote for multiple poets.

Here is the shortlist thus far:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/WTZT9X9

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Please share this post if you think it’s a good idea.

Who is your Favorite poet of all-time? Try the Survey!


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Hey Everyone,

Here is your chance to celebrate your all-time favorite poets, you will be able to choose a few of the ones in this list who have moved you the most. Tick the boxes next to the poets you treasure the most. These poets were shortlisted from an exhaustive and subjective review of the literature.

If you don’t see your favorites, let us know we can add a few more!

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/363WYDH

Choose the poets who most impacted your own writing, those rare poets who truly you feel are the most influential poets in your life.

Do note: That some of the classical cannon have been omitted from the list quite on purpose: Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, Dante, Goethe, Hugo, etc… (to name a few) to give a chance for more recent and unusual poets to be listed. We’d very much like to add more non-European poets if possible from foreign countries with equal footing for female and male poets represented.

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We consider this list to be informative as to some of the best poetic literature humanity has produced recently, so if you don’t know some of these names, I suggest you look them up. Let us know if you “discover” anyone on this list that impresses you.

Please share this post on social media and here, to get a comprehensive survey going, thanks.

Survey: What type of poetry topics do you write about?


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Hey Everyone,

I’m curious, what poem topics or styles do you most like to write? Please take the following survey and make your pick and we’ll post the results a bit later:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/3RYFMG5

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For Poetry’s Sake 


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For Poetry’s Sake

The urge to write poetry
Is inborn, like prophecy
Not all poetry wants to
Be storytelling, or rhyme

Or sound like other poets
We might have heard or ignored
Neither does poetry require a topic
Or a message, it can be

Just a matter of lovely language
Just beauty on the stray and loose
It doesn’t need to suffer
For the page or owe the pen anything

Poetry is of so subtle a spirit
We might as well discuss with our soul
What to write next, it’s learned
Through decades of loving

Words and having an itch
To write when nothing else is going on
Speculative metaphysics and art?
Try poetry, and unremember your life

Create layers on top of memory
Write poems, create destiny
Out of the fictions of your mind
It’s like a spell and a sacred hearing

Learning poetry by heart is then
Learning yourself by heart
And there is nothing like
Loving yourself in a poem.

Talking poems that speak of poetry


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I Like Poems that are Little Games

I sometimes talk to you
About making a poem with a poem
Within language I end in pleasure
It’s not like pain filtered

It’s like bliss and peace
Usually a life turned
Into a poem can be misrepresented
Or divinized, you don’t make a

A poet with ideas, not with words
You make it with feeling
Poetry is not a memory
It’s an experience you write down

You don’t help people
In your poems, you just
Relate your view of beauty
And they can participate or not

A poem is born of revelation
It cools in the night air
It pops the end of tragedy
For poetry outlives us

And it can reveal everything mysterious
Because itself is intuitive
Dancing in the heart of
Sonnets and odes that became

Birds of musical merit
That’s something I’d like to talk
To you about, how a pencil
Can become a painting

How a piano sonata can
Become a young woman.

One Book of Poems is like a Novel 


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One Book of Poems is like a Novel

You do not seem to have
The heart of poetry
You do not suffer tragedy
Like a liar who always speaks the truth

A poet looks at the world
The way a man looks at a beautiful woman
As if he will be haunted by her
All day long, the poet doesn’t

Have to invent, she listens
She listens all day
Like a solider ready to liberate words
From their steadfast possession

Of definition, form, ignorance
A poet must be a psychologist
She must find secrets
And tell them in some grasping narrative

For too much feeling unearthed
Like the soul lost, a mother-tongue
There is poetry as soon as
We realize we possess nothing

Then all the world comes alive
Sometimes poetry is inspired
By the conversations of life
Other times by the readings of other poems

There you go again, plucking
My heartstrings and making
Music with them, each word
Bears the weight of your loneliness
I’ve read my own quite slowly too.

There Would be people who listen 


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There Would be people who listen

Poetry being internal rambling
Is a lousy form of activism
It doesn’t really change much
In a world where poetry
Doesn’t get read, actions are not words

Though words may be a kind of
Act, a poem doesn’t start
A revolution, isn’t a political

Act of martyrdom
Though a poet is the best imitator
This art being the easiest to dabble in
The hardest to truly reach excellence
And the most lovely to quote

What’s a good quote without
The sense of magic
That concentration and economy

Unique to good verse
Like a short story compacted
Into a few brilliant lines
It’s contemplation of years soaked
In the seconds of our precision

If a spirit would ever want to be precise
I do not know, though the soul
Might want to love intent

Because you’ve got to find the truth
Within you, and penetrate it
Like having a very intuitive pen pal
Very far away, you have to
Summon her, exchange lives with her.

On Saying what you feel freely


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Let’s not try to define ‘Poetry’

I have been self-indulgent
With the most transient of art-forms
Not music, but poetry
Embracing imagery so light and immediate
As to be considered a kind of jazz

On the beat of the unfinished work
Of moons, on the anonymous audience
That is everywhere and nowhere
Let me ready you some of my
Poetry, it’s just the sign of the whispers

That took me to another level
The comedy of being myself and learning
To be other than what I once was
Most people ignore poetry
Because it doesn’t live in their chords

They don’t have inner guitars
In the heart-chakra, that fit
Upon the little words they use
In the days, in-between their thoughts
I think poetry always lives

In-between people, in the energy
That they release when they
Come into contact with each other
Nobody ever tells us what to read
Poetry’s always dead you know

Reading it is like getting ready to die
And looking at all we have done
And said in retrospect, like a ritual
Of how we summarize meaning.

untitled but for poetry’s page


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Poetry is its own best audience

Poetry is a daily practice
I don’t consider it particularly artistic
More like the spirit of language
Doing therapy on my brain

This is your brain on poetry
So I’ve transformed down the years
A few thousand poems are like
Little green eyes smiling

Like leaves bursting with wind on a tree
Next to your room, close to your soul
Like the ocean in the background
Holding all myth and legend

And the whispers of love that can
Absorb an entire lifetime
Like the memory of romance when
All romance has died long ago

Poetry is a meditation
Of how indebted we are to nature
And how gratitude never runs out
It only returns again and again

Like clouds of delight
And stars at twilight
Money is a kind of poetry
In the extent it lets you live and do anything

Through for inner freedom
Poetry > money in its simplicity
You can take it anywhere
And it will be guaranteed to still possess you

Embrace you, ravish you with
The adventure of time and delight.

Why The Spirit of Poetry Moves Me 


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Why The Spirit of Poetry Moves Me

Poetry is a vibrancy of how
Emotion can shift time-space
A storytelling of first love
Repeated in an indefinite number of degrees

I started reading poetry
After I studied philosophy
So the two seem fused to me
Like a brief delight of everything

And a freedom of hearing Nirvana
Poetry is a written form of
A language that is now silent
You can’t speak it and expect

It to sound the same, it stretches
Across lifetimes and endangers
Even the most well-established security
It’s a universal solvent and dissolves

The illusions of what we supposed
Was stability, for enlightenment
Always aches in us to move on
To further states of mingling

Poetry is like an orgasm of language
It’s the most exciting to write
And over the quickest and has
The most potential attractions

Who cares if people stop reading it
I’ll still be writing it, or pray tell
You can find thousands of these things
If there has been an apocalypse

Shakespeare is praised more than the Bible
Fame exhausts all eulogies
And poetry likes to sink and swoon
Under the weight of the times.

T a l k i n g P o e t r y 


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T a l k i n g P o e t r y

All poetry is an ordered voice
That we can summon forth from
Several stages of our lives
It’s a little voice with big heart

I don’t think poetry
Is something that can be taught
It lives in the brain of lovers

Who can only let it guide them
The very essence of poetry
Lives wild in experience
A first tribal mutation

Of the music of mutation
I like poetry even when I prefer
To write it than read it

It’s wide open and wanders
And wonders in a permanent state of grace
With a mutability of spirit
It’s a vision of what could be

And an ocean of our inner-being
Poetry is the secret in all nouns
And the transcendence of all verbs.

A word about Millennials


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Millennial Horizons

The big doors of the country
Of my youth are closing
I can feel the decades slip away
With student debt, temporary job

Wandering, I’m amazed for millennials
Who thrive on surviving
And must market themselves
As if the world was filled with opportunities

I saw half my friends have children
And get divorced, before I even
Knew what it was to settle down
There were no role-models, only

The feeling that the future was
Coming faster than we could understand.

The Sweet R e s p o n s i b i l i t y


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The Sweet R e s p o n s i b i l i t y

When I wrote on my door
That I wanted to leave my old life
I became a poet of my future
It was hypocrisy to dare
To leave the house that I had bought

I had to sell my old self
To the highest bidder, divorce
Tell me kids I still loved them

Not a soul dared to
Visit me on the other side
I had walked across the garden

Into a new life, where existed
New people to suit the new me:
All that spirits desire, spirits attain
Resting in reason, moving in passion

Across the veils, until sharing pleasures
Become a spiritual thing
The heart finds the sweetness of friendships
A fairly happy version of immortality.

Notes on Gibran


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In Small Acts of K i n d n e s s

I have learned silence
From the excessive noise
Of civilization, the advertisements
Of a hollow existence
I have learned tolerance
From the News, that depicts
Humanity as a violent species
Obsessed with trivial propaganda
I have learned kindness
From the cruel societies that
Explain inequality through
The myth of a meritocracy
And I have learned gratitude
From the frustration of living
In a world that does not practice
Silence, tolerance, kindness, equality.

I Pass Death with the Dying 


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I Pass Death with the Dying

Has anyone supposed they are
Lucky to be born?
In this corner of the Universe
With this kind of a spark?

I watch the nature of my generation
Go extinct, the species
Have their last autumn
While the corporations thrive

And I have to wonder
Where is the gratitude
One of a dominant species
While we spend billions

On military to protect ourselves
From the threat of each other
How shall these worlds
Protect themselves from us?

Has anyone supposed
We disgrace the Earth
In a self-centered kind of dream
Where to profit and have families

Exceeds all other cause?
Has anyone supposed we are
Luck to be born?
And that living is about learning

To give back, I suppose not
We are pragmatic opportunists
More interested in sex, comfort
The survival of our genes

While our institutions like democracy
Have become so corrupt
Half of all people refuse to vote
Has anyone supposed why it is
There are no revolutions anymore?

Begetters of children are busy surviving
Consumers are tricked into buying
For me lips that have smiled
But not for ignorant cities

Built on the destruction of nature
Has anyone supposed
We are lucky to have been born?
In a time of so much change

That machines and supercomputers
Might turn us upon a more righteous path.

I Celebrate S o u l 


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I Celebrate S o u l

The soul is full of reverence
The soul honours your soul
There is no mine or you
It honours the place where we

Reside in the entire universe
And honours light, love, truth, beauty
And peace within you
Because it is also within me

In sharing these things
Our spirits are united
If we didn’t have idealism
Hope for a better future

A sense of equality and justice
The capacity to have revolutions
We would not be one, or have
A common descendent divinity

There is a point in evolution
Where we evolve past this or that
And what I assume you shall assume
And what you dream, I shall live

For all these atoms of our humanity
Belong to a collective-soul
The atmosphere of unity is intimate
While it is transcendent of our body

I am mad for it to be in contact with me
The sniff of green that is a reminder
And we loaf and invite our souls
To govern our lives, like a discovery

Of our most powerful freedom
Who wills to serve divinity must
Intoxicate themselves with higher ideas
To participate in the future requires

A few embraces of altruism
A play in the shine of innovation.

Mother’s D a y 


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Mother’s D a y

Thank you for bringing me
Into the world, Mother
My soul was built upon your love
My spirit blessed by your protection

I trust the world because of you
And claim special joys
For my descendants because
You loved being a Mother

With love and tenderness
That I might multiply it like beauty
In the Universe, and find
Respect and cherish women

More so than all other things
My Mother, you have always been
Like a dear friend, and have allowed me
The freedom to be myself

And in that freedom the Earth-mother
Has spoken to me, of what I need to do
To contribute back to life
All the labours of love

And all the sacrifices
To fight against cold fathers
And the rules of this world
Who hoard and profit while we struggle

These corporations who have
No ethics, barely any authenticity
Towards giving back, community
Thank you Mother, for making me

A feminist, in this world of Patriarchy
Where men exploit women
Rather than learning from them
And fault them for wanting so badly

To have children, like you did Mother
A good mother is irreplaceable
Somebody who is right for the job
It’s not everyone who should be a parent

My mother is my spine, keeping me straight and true
My blood of spiritual minerals
Making it run rich and strong
She is the beating heart of our humanity

Our guide to dreaming water
Our guide how to love ourselves and each other.
Mother, you filled my heart in the first place
With so much goodness, I am kind

A bit each day, like speechless gratitude
That purifies all it touches
It was you who taught me most
“We find ourselves in the sacrifices we make”

That love is to enjoy giving
More than receiving, it is true
The hope for altruism is still strong in me
Because I had a mother like you.

Further reading:

Millennials opting out of Motherhood:
http://mic.com/articles/114040/for-young-women-not-having-children-has-become-the-rational-decision

W e A r e What We T h i n k


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W e A r e What We T h i n k

If we become what we think
To purify the mind should
Should be our priority
The mind is everything

So let us not dwell on the past
Or dream too much of the future
But love the present as
The greatest gift, like

Health, wealth, faithfulness
And learn to love too
The nature of change who
Can be aggressive or docile

Peace comes from within
Conquer yourself with acceptance
Love yourself with surrender
The shadow’s good health requires

That we become less attached to our shadow
The patterns we fabricate
As comfortable routines of dysfunction
The shadow is what we must act upon

Holding on to anger or giving words
To sadness to ourselves
If we become what we think
We must laugh at our shadow

Convince it to dissolve
For we have to work our own salvation
Do not depend on others for it
They will not have time to care for it.

The World is Fading 


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The World is Fading

Writing is thinking on paper
Poetry is music on air
Someday I’ll know how not to be a fool
Not to be attached and insist
For beyond teachings, I’ve learned

Tenderness, and beyond hurt
I’ve learned compassion
Until my heart became clear

And I was resolved to peace
Attuned to soul
Surrendered to spirit
I need to give up what
No longer works and take up new

Ways of being that keep us close
To what matters, like divinity
Writing is thinking in narratives

Poetry is communion with the infinite
The poet has enough flowers
To doze in dream worlds
My poems are not poems
They are how I speak to nature.

My Diamond Sutra 


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My Diamond Sutra

My daily activities are not me
I am not what I do
What I do is just a harmony
Of action in the world

Neither am I this or that
Or any of the roles prescribed
I am a free being
Drawing water, carrying firewood

Watching the moon because
I can, I grasp for nothing and
In a way I discard nothing
I’m a marvellous activity

Of loving the universe that created me
That is my true function
The wind won’t settle
My mind won’t rest

The birds will sing
The sun will shine
I will be ignorant and simple
The mind of the past is ungraspable

The mind of the future future is ungraspable
The mind of the present is ungraspable
So I learn slowly to
Stop grasping at things and people.

Untitled zen poem


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On observing the P r e s e n t s t a t e

There is an error in thought
That does not recognize silence
Or witness the unity behind everything
Unwilling to see the page of nature

We believe our agency to be separate
But our thoughts are rather
Manifestations of nature

We are part of this design
We lack the trust of instinct
Separating, labeling, judging

Living in a cost-benefit duality
Our intelligence is quite limited
So we search for the coin
In the river where we lost it

But time does not function like that
Memory is no longer accurate
The moment it is recalled
And self is a poor approximation of destiny

Destiny is a non-dual experience
It is the Tao of fundamental reality
So empty your body of illusions

And throw away the madness of attachment
Freedom is not to approve anything
For reality is a gold and dung phenomenon

If we stop pursuing things outside of ourselves
Then might we be able to witness
What is actual and what is essential.

On The F r i n g e s of E n l i g h t e n m e n t


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On The F r i n g e s of E n l i g h t e n m e n t

I am the beginning’s mind
In love with many possibilities
So I became a poet
Without accepting the fact

That everything changes
We are impotent
We cannot find perfect composure

Life is a koan ready to be experienced
Transience is that nature
And nurture of the game
Art is like the discipline

Of creating a reoccurring situation
Where the world is its own magic
And we are visitors, it’s that simple

So won’t you stay for a while?
Everything is perfect
And understanding yourself
Allows you to understand everything

And ultimately, we must exist
Right here and now
I am the beginner at love

For only recently
Did I recognize her everywhere.

Amorphous


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Amorphous

We were a spark conceived
From the scope of ether
Rift of dreams that
Navigated separation, changing worlds
I could not seduce you

Amorphous, you were like
Waters through my hands
The ache of happenings

Unreachable, impenetrable
The bubble of too many lifetimes
Your papaya body would be
For others to touch, your tomato kisses
Would be for other lips to suck

The sweetest offers were fleeting
Amorphous, you are, you were
Like a gentle breeze on my back

That I could not reach or sleep inside
A plum tree with forbidden fruit
How sweet the fragrance of your need
Out of those hairy recesses where stood
A triumphant mound of flesh

Free from martyrdom and servitude
Free at least and for what
Soul beneath all kisses and wine

Night-long and aching across distances
I as if with old passion must depart
Too intimate the rose-bush
Too immediate those heaving breasts
We are a spark conceived to alter
The sense of touched destiny.

Reconnaissance


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Reconnaissance

The only way I could
Make love to you was through poetry
Everything else was forbidden
We were spirits in transit

At the ends of nostalgia
Ready to be idealistic again
And yet one arrives somehow
For dance lessons, a psychological encounter

In the strange bedroom
Of intimate dialogue
And it occurred to me
I’d never know you completely

I’d project and I’d compensate
And I’d only reach a part of you
That was, how it was with language
All these approximations

Emotions that go three ways
Timing that is rarely serendipitous
So I followed your lead
Not knowing the name of the bud

Where I would hold your flower
In its sweet smell of soulful freedom
And let nature suck me in
To her passionate eternity.

The Golden heart of the two of us


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The Golden heart of the two of us

My soul’s weight is in thee
Thoughts that stray in the dead of night
And morning lest the rise I come
With dresses of spiritual

Vegetation to bury me
And all that I once was or might have been
My want is to pull the garments
Of the cosmos over us

So that we might choose a body
To inhabit and a heart to hold
As strangers who hold hands
But do not know why, in that

Appointed hour, how it comes to pass
Or how the goddamned sea will kneel
When all the life on Earth has passed
I have lips unused to thee

And bashful knowing nods
And Handel in my ears
It’s a long road to freedom
But a short road to witness you free

Shall we blush the eternal blush
And face the fervent and feverish muse?
Together as a fine distraction in May
To enthral the life-force from our

Glands and organs like biological magic
And find tempestuous civility
In the weight of our need
A delight in the disorder of our sense
The hope too precise in every part?