Sunday, May 24, 2009

James Taylor

Don't read these
words and imagine,
James Taylor,
That I am talking about you,
Or only about you.
You're so vain.

Any poem I write
Is a process end-product
Raw experience and emotion
Meet their own echoes in my
Mind, and they
Combine, entwine
So that when I record
Reaction it is shaded, metaphoric,
Catalytic and cathartic.

At least, that's the intention.

Don't imagine any emotion I record
That might be a reaction to you,
Your proximity, your heady fragrance and
air of what might be,
Is a permanent fixture in my stratosphere.
A poem is a snapshot, interpreted through
Filters, a frozen moment of how it was
When you brushed my hand
That one time.

Don't imagine, James Taylor, that all
my dreams of falling end in your

Don't even imagine that this
Poem is entirely about

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