Improvisation 01 30 2013
Original 01 13 2013
TO MAKE SENSE OF:
To make sense of only proves
Desire has a hand stirring pots
You are desired and I am near
Close to smells at winds carrying
Fresh breaths of you –sense of
My musk evaporates in winds
Too thin to dry invisible mists
Winds spray so deadly fumes
Smell a touch to much of you…
To make sense of only sees
Indifference that love compels
Practice wanes drama trembles
Sense to hear plays tricks on me
Songs are unclear but touch me
Playing uninformed music…
To make sense enough to script
On stage visible drama partners
With music’s clap and thunder
How close is anything to infinity?
If only I could remember perhaps
Like my mother’s dementia it was
God that perhaps I and not she
Forgot to make sense of - believe
It or not –love will never bury us
Together or apart - we shall leave
And love will gather in our hearts.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Reproduce with permission only.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem