Of Muses And Other Ghosts

(7 march 1988)

Unshaped


Everything I couldn't say back then
is here, unspoiled,
like it was in those days,
unscattered by men, and..
Maybe I shouldn't pick the lightning
from your eyes, the dust is already
waist deep, in your heart, on me, but..
In my stupidity, I've made you muse
on my ordinary page, on your back
drawing you wings, not hollow like
mine, but better, like the wind, untamed,
wings that do not bow to their impotent god,
wings that make you real, more than any god..
(...)

Submitted: Saturday, December 21, 2013
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