April is National Poetry Month
Surrounded by my
brothers and sisters,
strong, brave poets
I am on the floor
in the poetry aisle
and the rain sweeps down
outside and keeps its
poetic secrets
I am a poet!
I leave a poetic wake
And my wet footprints
on the new carpet
speak poetry, and 
so I am not forgotten
I touch you
leaving my aura
behind me like perfume
William Carlos
Williams said,
"Poets are damned
but they are not blind,
they see with the eyes
of angels."
I rub off on to the
mathematicians, the
scientists, the
cynics, and 
you are not the same
for having met me
"The Blood of the Poet"
says William Everson's
book
We bleed
everywhere we bleed
But taste our blood
it is meter, it is verse
We live in another world
a mirror world where
we see and are touched
we record
but can we touch?
do we exist?
National Poetry Month,
and a loud big woman
is talking about feeding
the dog in the seedy
romance section
and everything I've ever
lived grows in me
and I see through
the streetlights to the
darkness
I am an angel
I am an idealist
I cling to Keats, 
to Ginsberg, to Angelou
I will be strong and 
brave and free
I will say the words
I will shout
and be gone
and I will echo through
the cosmos
and my voice will set
a star spinning
a tiny bit faster
we are connected
and I will be moondust,
and you will read this
and know that I am 
dust
that will not evaporate
my poetic footprints
on the moon will
be here for ages
and the people will 
find them
and weep

7 April 1998

(back)