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About This Poem
The Poet's Mind
When I close my eyes,
what do I see?
A tornado, I visualize,
of words flying all around me.
Strapped into my chair,
seatbelt securely fastened.
I grasp words out of the air,
their animation suspended.
With the simplest of ease,
with paper and pen.
I make my entries,
some I amend.
A simple process is what I find,
the inner workings of the poet's
mind.
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