viernes, febrero 10, 2006

The Hidden Poem


Imagination runs naked

words sweat

until they melt into each other.

Inspiration now becomes invisible

like the taste of butter on sunlit skin.

The poem has let you in

into its secret chamber of love

but you only paint the walls

and the soft furnishings

all the real art stays hidden

in-between the lines

and behind the curtains

of form and appearance.