Pulse Poem by Keel Lincoln

Pulse, pulse, beat, beat,
Slight burn of the ears increases the heat,
You walked in the room,
And the rushing increased,
Pulse, Pulse, beat, beat,
Friction of the blood in my veins,
As the acceleration of the pounding heart flushes it out more,
Makes the heat in the back of my neck begin to sore,
Pulse, pulse, beat, beat,
I don’t understand, this warmth about my face,
Am I scared or nervous, worried or servilous,
What should I say, or is there anything to say,
I’m starting to twitch, what is it about you being here,
That makes these strange thoughts so severe,
What would come of talking,
Or saying what may be deeply locked in my mind,
And let you know that you seem to be a unique kind,
And wonder what it would be like, if to this we could find,
A way to work that I could never ponder, and wonder,
What would these thoughts foretell if they were told,
Said, deep and true, and out for you, in words real and bold,
Would there be a mocking of all that is within me,
A repeating of the history that I have found from other times,
If that becomes so, then forever I shall remain what I am, always mimes,
This world is so complex, but the most complex part is this beating within me,
That I get when my vision hears you, and my ears to you see,
Then I wonder, what if I talked, and thing would be,
What if I talked and, maybe, together with thee,
This world would be a place of something, or nothing,
Or something,
Is that not the hope of all, to find that something,
From company of another,
And though it may not be you, what if it is,
What if you pass by and never spoke, I never talked,
And you went by with the refusal of my words to stop you,
And ask, once, maybe twice, where would we be,
Together, I wonder, and then again, I wonder,
Are you thinking it too,
I can’t find out, I can’t talk, I choke on words,
I remain a mime, and speak to my hair,
Life, so deeply teaches me it’s not fair,
But you are fare,
Do I dare.