Duality by Stanley David Gedzelman


I came to swim but on a whim

In a perfect pool of silent water

I dropped as bait permanganate

In order to see what its catch might be.

The tiny grain slashed a purple stain

That paled to pink as it drank its drink

Yet stood nearly still as it always will

Diffusing in place like gossamer lace.

But each drip will drive a ripple

Which, as it races, always traces

A spectral caustic cross the floor

To prop the clear but wavy water.

And so it is with poetry.

In olden days it used to be

Voyages crossing real oceans

Accompanied by emotions.

Now the sea is imagery

The voyage in the mind

The port the soul, elusive goal

Impossible to find.


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