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Ars Poetica

Poems should be open doors
Invisible, unless you look
Still gently swinging
Back and forth

Doorways wandered through
With clear intent
On finding something new

To endless space
Where words leave salty
Bitter
Sweet
Upon the tongue

A poem should fill
As a breath of fresh air expands a lung

A poem should be like a mother
Like a father
Teacher
Child
Held in your arms
And you in its
Eternal to you
And eternally different
For me



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