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On Being Toasted and Finding a Friend Not at Home

3/22/2014

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I worked some years ago at a restaurant which had a hotel above it that Maya Angelou would rent the same bare-bones room in, each visit. It had no phone and no TV. She used it to write. During a period when she was not renting it, after one particular night of some debotchery, I borrowed the key from the front desk, snuck into the room, and sat for a time on the floor. I wanted to absorb any energy remaining, and any possible inspiration. The following resulted later.

 

Full Moon in the vacant room of

​Maya Angelou.

A bed, a desk and chair furnish the portal

​To your muse.

I don’t know you

Black Lady Poet

Three flights up

High.

I feel you Bounce

Off walls. Blue Stripe, Old White

Plaster Cracking Poetry

Lurks in Vampire Wings.

Stay with me and Drawl.

Tell me some story never shaken

​From your pen.

But alas, the sobering sun comes

​All too soon,

Through windows holding in

Your light

High

Up in your room.

Picture
Excerpted from Synergy in the iTunes Bookstore
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    j. david gray

    Using a pen, a sharp tongue, and a sense of humor.

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