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flowers

Singular Universal

flowersTo write a poem
or to read one
it takes a certain kind
of heart
one that stops
for a moment
or has a seizure
before
resuming

A poet can not have
many friends
nor the reader
each
odd
in discrete
disguise
A warp in the weave

Sometimes
the heart
seizes
in the warmth of
God’s breath
and wordless whisper

Not an experience
reserved for poets
or readers
or believers
At all.

The poet lives in Charlottesville, Va.

Posted in: November 2015: Books and Pop Culture, Poetry

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