Tuesday, December 3rd, 2013...12:23 pm

a.d. winans | poetry

Jump to Comments

POETRY

I was born with poetry
I cried for poetry
I bled from poetry
seven months out of the womb
born at home, eager for the poem


in the morning
the poems rise with the fog
at night they nest
in my eyes


poetry is my lover
she undresses my mind
like a burlesque dancer


Poems nailed
to the walls
of my heart.


poems jump from
the keyboard
escape outside
fly high like a kite
at ocean beach


poems are in my skin
they are here there
and everywhere


In my dreams
I make love to the poem
in the morning
she wakes me with a kiss


I dream poetry
I breathe poetry
I live for poetry
I will die for poetry

2 Comments

  • A poem of A .D.’s epigrammatic and dramatic legacy of
    a Beat which delightfully celebrates his linguistic perceptions attaching himself to his own processing as a
    poet with an unbounded zest for life’s voice.
    BZ Niditch

  • Hello bz, thanks for the insight you have into my poetry, not just this one, but all the other ones you have commented on.

Leave a Reply