is there life beyond poetry?
i recall a life of scars — before poetry
cut me
deep — left me bleeding
for years
such tears,
friendly faces
in imagination
is there life beyond poetry?
i relive the muse-filled days
of elation & ecstasy
now mere memories waning
in the dusty desert sprawling
beyond poetry? is there life
down the dried-out well
a poet waits
for a roped rescue
or ladder to descend
is there poetry here? is there life
there
far beyond the horizon
of an advancing autumn’s day.