on a cold winter
a friend in Chicago finally
opens up like
a clam and grabs
a sand that pricks
his tongue
so he can make a
pearl
this Christmas
i ask two questions
which i think are
intrusions to his
privacy
honestly, i am not
interested
he's happy and it is
enough to know
that
what i realize is that
he is happy and he is
no longer interested
about what i ask
or what i say
i quit.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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