I've published a book of poems. I've been the poetry editor of a national literary journal. I've been nominated for the Pushcart Prize a couple of times. No Pulitzer. No Nobel. Yet. I suppose, if I could say something to my younger self, it would be, "Watch out for skunks!" (I have had a couple very close encounters with skunks that have cost me a good pair of running shoes and an expensive book bag.)
Saint Marty is still dreaming.
The Beginning of Speech
by: Adonis
The child I was came to me
once,
a strange face
He said nothing We walked
each of us glancing at the other in silence, our steps
a strange river running in between
We were brought together by good manners
and these sheets now flying in the wind
then we split,
a forest written by earth
watered by the seasons’ change.
Child who once was, come forth—
What brings us together now,
and what do we have to say?
You would make an awesome Willy Wonka; you can totally carry a life-as-musical.
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