Thursday, April 12, 2007

Poem #102 of 365

I feel so clear and rational that I begin
to reach for something to cloud my
mind: a fistful of snacks, a lager pint,
an online gossip. In that fog of chaos,
I find familiarity and uncanny shadows
which transfix and propel me.

Why is it that poet needs the confusion,
the dilemma of torment, the failing
brakes to create her edge?

I don't write from fact, I write from
feel, and that is why in order to reveal
such subtle strings I must peer inside
or out of the Pandora's Box.

BBC News will do just as well.
A night without sleep will summon the
fantasy. An eerie dog howl can mock
the sane.

Don't worry, poetry is always fictive.
The end.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

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