MAGIC I didn't used to write about romance My words used to be about hope But these days my hope is wrapped up In romantic notions, romantic words, Things I understand even if I don't express them Things like "disenchantment" and "magic" And "sincerity" and Other words of a romantic nature Romantic notions of emptiness And discontent All things I understand because The poetic part of me remembers them I remember using words to talk about hope I remember using romantic words Experience may not have been a driving factor It was more than likely more from language The way talking in tongues means touching different dreams Thinking a lot about different worlds Different worlds off near the stars Places where things fly, sprout, Grow wings and jump off Leaping is romantic even when dreamers deny romance When passion allows itself to speak Pushing in under doorways The wind that brings cold, makes people shiver and think The magic isn't entirely dependent on the magicians Or even on the viewers, who are less likely to decide In some ways decisions don't decide directions And directionless motions are the ones that leave marks in the sand The ocean is romantic because it feeds itself to poets And shows up in poems And makes people remember that it's something special even if It isn't any different from other romantic things Maybe I'm a stuck writer Not because I'm numb But because I'm a repressed romantic Not a repressed thinker, just not used to expressing The parts I think of as romantic And used to think of as poetic And still think of as part of me, Just not the part I'm used to letting people see Maybe just feeling makes me a poet Maybe not writing doesn't mean I don't feel Written in 2004. Poetry