Come

Shelley defined poetry as “the expression of imagination.” Phenomenologists would not differentiate between the external observation and the inner narrative. Beauty runs all over my Helpless. Add up the parts you won’t have the sum. Je ne sais quoi An open door Everything about her says “Come. Come to me” Everything that has preceded informs us here and now. Ever onward, inward leading. In the field learning how to come to me The wind will blow. Rain fall The river flow. The ocean call. “Come to me.” Poetry is imagining what we already know almost. You know I know you know.