Ode To Poets
i don’t want to hear.
stop your racket, let me curl up
into my
self.
forget the new, the change,
freeze the turning point
melt my bones into quicksand
love is like a disease;
wherever you go, i
most certainly will follow
my body is a door
the fist that knocks upon
it is
my heart
the poets
they, the dead ones
speak of matters such as eternal, and everlasting
excuse me, pardon me
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
beautiful, ornate, twirling speech like the spirals of Notre Dame
forgive me please, my dear poets
my words are plain, crude but they do
hold my spirit.
…oh, i digress,
i flutter here and there
****
know this:
i travel you with me
our paths never separate at least not to me in my mind
i am stationary, still, steady
only when i hear
does the earth move under my feet
only when i see
do i feel off-tilt
you.
you make me spin off my axis,
corkscrew out of orbit,
hopscotch along the stars
dodging comets, heartbeats, metaphors and tears
only occasionally,
i collide.
]words unbind me, but only sometimes[
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