The Life of the Word
Not long ago,
two moments passed.
My poem spoke in Spanish,
(I had no idea it could),
while a neighboring thought
broke free of its paper cocoon,
versifying in a widening spiral,
dizzying itself and drawing in those who would listen
until all we could do was delight
in the washing-over smear of colors,
in the carbonated crackle of Life.
c. MperiodPress
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