| The Muse�s Response to the Passionate Poet* The Moon�s pull has no relation to the tide that draws me from your fragile shores. Nor is it the motionless gaze upon my dance so divine, my burning in the afternoon twilight. It is the way you undress the memories, glorifying the glints and glow, the whispers of pleasure in the mid-summer dewy air. Caged in your paternal force like a nightingale with clipped wings and scorched tongue: candy for the new revolution. I acknowledge the power you honed when the magic enveloped us, the attacks of creation mid-lunge, but enough! oh, Lord, enough! Never was it my aim for you to exude this passion. Still, I am a Muse, with emotions as cold as my words. May you learn to understand the truth behind the lies, for I did not want to lose that which I have now destroyed. |
| * A response to The Passionate Poet To His Fair Lover |