Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Phoenixes

The fiery skies
of a poet’s last days
are his final dreams
come closing in.

The train of his life
derails in flames,
the muse flies off,
he burns in his seat.

Smoke swirls high
through uncharted space;
a white-welcome heaven,
his heart is ash.

Yet nothing is lost;
what remain are the words:

And one day they’ll rise
to seek shelter
in romantic minds.



 (From the book Wilderness & Love)

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