Reading
There is a house on Point Street
Where poets dwell
With the salty tang of the sea wafting through open windows
And when they open their doors
More poets gather
Congregate on the lawn
Feasting on words
Feasting on the communion
Which poets consecrate
When they make words into flesh
At the house on Point Street
Lovers touch affectionately
Complete strangers open up
No fear of artifice
Or attempts to impress
Nobody trying get ahead at someone else’s expense
Just the wisdom of the words
Spoken under an open sky
Punctuated by the calls of the circling gulls
Voices calling from down the block
While we gather for the truth
Of the spoken word
In the dimming light
Hearts remain aglow
Tonight
At the house on Point Street
David Trudel © 2012
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