Most excruciatingly beautiful
you. Most hesitatingly aloof you.
Where are your words these days, those phrases full
of natural imagery? Give us clues
to avenues where you and your Muse flow
in every revery, meditation.
Share sharp insight only poets allow –
deep cutting blade of psyche’s truth. You shun
my eyes. That’s all right, as long as honest
words – tight as tourniquets – always return
to your tongue and page. Rhythms you invest
can impress each mind and heart – blaze and burn
like a brand. Like your blue eyes still consume
space and air when you gaze across the room.
Roger Armbrust
June 23, 2016
