O my America! my new-found-land...
How blest am I in this discovering thee!So wrote John Donne, and I thought
of you, real when one wonders
whether Donne's roving hands
met a quill pen and not female flesh,
putting the pen on paper
and not him on her or her on him.
No mirage you, and far more
have I been gifted in inspiration
flowing from your spring
than the future dean,
and if he wins in art I win in you
and by praising what is
and not what could
in Donne's flickering candlelight
be born from his imagination only,
a mistress that lives on paper solely
and on paper does what his pen asks.
I write from reality, what I can gaze
upon and be thankful, caught
in a whirpool of desire
that grips the mind and the flesh -
not only a mirage born from a dream
that never breathed but lived in ink.
03.09-04.09.2025
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