October 19, 2008
A wispy purple cape of
Smoke envelopes you
Curlicue-ing, prancing, laughing
And a string of metaphors seeps
Out of all the pores in your body.
Pablo Neruda’s caricatured features
Appear in your landscaped mind, and
Your pen is drawn to paper by magnetic force.
The newly engendered ideas, which have
Been secreted in the various pockets of
Your mind, decide to unveil and come forth.
You are in a poetic trance. Nothing will unnerve you,
Remove you, distract you. The intervals of time
Lessen and run together, as you spend eternity
Looking into yourself, sans-rose colored glasses.
Not reflection, per say, because this is your
True self, the one nobody has seen.

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