Literally,
Iam escaping
from the thoughts
that once
drowned
me.

-

She expressed her love towards him literary and he tried to understand it scientifically.......
hence the story left unsaid.

-

If all of us had
the same taste
it would have been
culinary and literary disasters.

-

I am a writer:
often knocked down,
but a resilient fighter,
and whether or not
you offer me a hand,
I will rise & take a stand.

-

To experience
the union
of Text,
Tone and
Tune,
sometimes
I write,
recognizing
creation, in
continuity

-

My broken poetry
intertwined with
your prosaic story
our tale of love
was literary.

-

"So it Goes"

What did Vonnegut know?
Although,
it is true, he did show
us a mirror - one
that is cracked,
blending
fiction with fact,
lending
us his eyes,
all wrinkled & wise:
"So it goes", he always said,
hoping we might look ahead
and maybe - just maybe - see,
we're dying in shackles,
but are born to be free.

-

Sonnet To Weird Verma

Your Fellini-esque dreamscape pulls me out of the stereotype box.
Behind me, I hear Dylan's psychedelic guitar and Lynch's knocks
on the consciousness-door. Kafka sits with a smile on the dinner
table beckoning me to eat your delicious words, infinite winners
in the test of time. Life is absurd. Life is paradox. Life imitates art
more than art imitates life, says Wilde. Then, you do your part
creating the best kind of art. The kind of art that frees the soul
from the shackles of the world. Where imagination truly unfolds
into the unexpected and original. Where fancy becomes greatness.
And I, your weird friend, Weird Verma, cannot very humbly express
how delighted I am to see a real poet like you here in this clichéd mess
of words and stolen quotes. Keep showering us with your uniqueness,
that is the best I can say. May we meet someday in some corner dark yet
illuminated and discuss the visions and illusions that turned us into prophets.

-

You don't know a person unless you can find the Sun covered under his clouds and the blues behind his shine.

-

One will never know the truth about this affair, because the truth -- like the personalities, even the voices, of the two writers -- is constantly in flux.


Joyce Johnson

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