I need the chance to/
view what I can do with a/
new muse in those shoes!
OR
Give me a chance to/
view what poetry can do/
to a new shoes muse!
I need the chance to/
view what I can do with a/
new muse in those shoes!
OR
Give me a chance to/
view what poetry can do/
to a new shoes muse!
How can she read my/
poems about the moon and not/
know they’re meant for her?
OR
know they’re about her?
I thought of her Grandma/
when these East Coast flowers I saw,/
But it just went through my head: /
She might enjoy them instead! /
(A gift from Connecticut to Utah!)
I saw on her event link that she likes flowers!
I recall when we /
lay gazing at the full moon./
Then she blocked my view.
The midnight train’s
lonesome call
awakened me.
Startled,
I looked to see
a bright light
bearing down on me.
I panicked
until I realized
it was again
the damn
full
moon
racing
down
the
window
slats
tracks
to once more
crush
my heart
with missing you
memories.
Oh codeine! Thou who/
hast placed me in Xanadu
with Coleridge’s high*.
Or
*Muse.
She called him genius,/
but he knew that in her lay the/
greater blessing: Muse.
The way the evening’s/
clouds overlapped each other/
made me dream of us.
How feels it to know,/
even in silence, that you’re/
a permanent muse?
Or
How does it feel to/
know that you’re a permanent/
muse, e’en in silence?