Cold Front

Sometimes I wonder if I disappoint you when I replace poetry with discourse. Poetry is fueled by intense emotions, none of which I feel presently. But that doesn’t mean my poet’s heart has iced over within the empire of intellect. I still wake up every morning and am ravaged by the world of sense.

Sadly, now, your voice is silenced in my head, and you decay beyond trace of memory into mere abstraction.

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The surface and beneath the surface