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"Empty Frame"

I don't know if I'll be one of those Poet Laureates.

still black and white picture immortalized
in a pixelized frame, begging to be touched.
have the audacity of Bukowski,
soul deepness of Giovanni
lyrical jazz of Hughes
romanticism of delicate Teasdale to
sing my blues.
who will "discover" me? will
the ancient scribes of paper stand the litmus test of time,
acid free paper aged like the bouquet of red wine
can I be translated in eighty languages
spoken in academic environments
recited in meter, rhyme and prose
comparable with the genius of Edgar Allen Poe.
my tell tale heart.
do my words change and move
sway and dance
lift and elevate
inspire and exasperate
or will you all forget
the non-poet laureate
if her words are not printed
in ink?

13 of 30

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