His appearance is of a solitary man as he presence himself.
He’s wrapped in a studious cloak.
Vast knowledge and collections spill onto the table.
My radiant companion scripts his language.
I watch and listen.
I’m here to remember; emptying more than filling.
Poetry begins and pretense departs.
Links to scripts placing memories of verse; a trumpet ignites.
Words from our Diner girl, who is she?
Flavor captured in confidence.
Never known when I was young.
I look inside the man who references a feast of his own.
Still I slip to envy and awaken perceptions of my indulgences.
Diner girl where are you?
Do you dance or create?
Do you facilitate or construct?
Why do I ask? You do both.
The universe takes care of Poets
They need to see in the night.
Menus
Food
My banquet is words.
