Chapter 1 – Discovery

18 May

My poems grip me

As each new handshake

Enthrall me

To the point of discovery.

My poems awaken me.

A mute dreamer

Must exude emotion

Through his hands, his expression

No spoken language remains universal

In silence or the dark

My poems move me

I am but a muse

Mating metaphorical catastrophes

Used

Only to capture that which

Sound tends to lose.

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