Becoming a Poem
As an artist I will admit there were unfortunate moments in my intensity, when crippling insecurities left me limp and passion-free. When I'm busy doing something I love,
there was progress to my spirit. Keeping busy always put me in a better mood. I am many, but not always the fairest to gaze upon, my smoldering aura embodied the
holy, unholy and the human form; I confess I've opened my exalted head and body to Pablo Picasso who perceived me in strange and abstract ways; and there were times when I've summoned the most evil,
known as Satan for a few hot unholy days, then joined Moses and the Greatest Mother of them all, until I tired of their perpetual sermons, on the hills, if I recall;
three watery graves once called out to me, I offered John, Jr. a Water Lillie, as well as his wife, Caroline and her sister, too,
lastly with an urge to breed, I began following John Travolta around when his quivering wings reminded me of a night spent in the arms of the angel Michael,
I offered him a Lilac Blossom plucked from my own bosom...laughed and kissed him long and hard, becoming this poem for you.