the conductor

Poem #195 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


he takes the reading of a book
seriously

it is not always
akin to a religious
experience
but
he wishes that it was

the times when words
on the page
seem trite
repetitive
derivative

all very poor experiences
but
when the words dance
the lines speak
then
then he finds
he is a kind of conductor

using a pointing finger
as baton
his mental reading
rises
falls
swirls in a torrent
of words

beautiful to declaim
aloud
like a shakespearian thespian
in his mind


© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #196: dream alive

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