November 2013, Wellspring of Imagination Poetry Reading
May your tears cloud your own image,
skew your reflection,
pool at your feet.
When you dance alone,
no partner worthy of your hand,
May you stumble,
and your ego hasten your fall.
May pages be filled with your pathos,
where all print is blood,
but may your reader be blind.
May you weave your remaining bones
in selfish admiration,
as tapestry unfinished on your loom,
threads tarnished in your hands.
When you dance in a hall of mirrors,
may you gnash your teeth,
flail your limbs,
twist your torso into a coiled spring,
poised to break forth into eternity.
May you find where the four winds sleep
in the caverns behind your ears,
Let their empty whisperings
lull you softly to sleep.