It is her mania that eats at him
Scares him, bids him live alone
She scrawls thoughts on scraps
Flung into the world's vortex
She becomes the gate, locked
At dawn and pinning him without air
A thousand feet below the crag
A blast triggered by God-made man
This and a five dollar promise
Are the conquering heroes in their
Subterranean visions, mind-melded
Claustrophobics and regulators of art
Her ears decipher and illuminate
Palms strain for the creation they
Never could tow to the
Most final crest of fruition
She relishes the rambling pilgrimage
Slicing it thicker by the hour and
Saturating their lives in whimsy
Revived by the images seen in her soul
8 June 2009
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