Her Words My Print

It is her words at the center of it I only print this as a tribute to it. Here is the poem Deborah Guzzi wrote Here is passion etched On the edge of a note Here is the sum of all our knowledge: "Words are the balm of age the gift of sage when all flees and even the white of eye reddens with rheum words fair words dispell the gloom when hands are mapped with age and knarled still they transform the page the eye the cage Words flow and mind goes to pristine smiles and the smooth curves which once were thy thy cheek thy neck thy hip Deny me anything but the word for its magic will soon be all that remains of fresh and new." And here I am poor Sisyphus With this eternal burden Only from hell we dream of heaven (The words of this poem are not mine alone, that of DG is encapsulated in quotation marks, speaking to their centrality in my admiration).