The Immortal

“So I must define to be defined ”

What does Cees Roozemond think, now that he knows he has sired an immortal? What wooden drawer does he go to, to pull out that lost poet’s blue ribbon? Is there one there? Who is the writer in the family? Who can take credit?

I would like to take credit, do the Frame Job, that she so artfully undid. Is it I that she, won’t let, box her in? This sprite, that voice, this tight – wonder! She is like a sister of another kind that takes me deep into the Blue Woods to catch and cup these word-wonderments.

Come look over my shoulder. See this! Did you hear that?

My heart is melting between the aching. She waves her hand, and frost gathers on my brow, to cool me off, too cool for the normal words, now. Almost, poetic perfection. I can see, the one -flaw?

She opens her closed eyes, and let’s me see the Complete Inviting. There a deep and immortal soul, there, for the taking.

But, this is a hand-off, on the immortal merry-go-round. I can not say I am too old – for what? She takes all the new peeks around the unknown corner, where I have been, where I have been going, going behind the last mystery door.

My flying over the top days, are over. I go where all the immortals are going, these days, back to the beginning to wait for that first door to open once more. And the pretending days are made fresh, because we have been caught, caught being young together, and we feel so very ancient, ancient souls penning forever poems, to one another?

Here they come! Alas, they have found us……..The Immortal Readers of Poetry! The blue ribbon seekers and finders, of Immortal Souls.

For Lara Roozemond. The Poet

by

Jon Presco