ASPIRATION

poems is music, baby,
flowing eye to ear
and mind to bone
and soul to soul
wired through
those pages,
that arterial tangle
and those blue sparks
unfiltered
yet placed just so,
word to word
in rhythmic
cascade,
a perfect dance --
expressive,
limber,
free,
but practiced to that end --
free flowing
but not free --
learned,
like fingers
on a fret board
or a drummer's perfect roll
that we might hear
and see beyond the page
to feel the poet's bliss
or pain,
a common chord
or some internal discord
brought naked
and beautiful
via simple language