Fill in the blanks: Hello ___,
I am ill and would die
having been diagnosed with ___.
I want to distribute my ___
to ___ in your country
through you. Please respond
for more ___. Respectfully, ___.
I am ill as you know and ill-
prepared for the day: read to me
again those lines that say how
All that is wild is tamed by love—
though I can tell you when even
the sun struggles to shine,
when even the birds refuse to eat
from the same tree as their mates.
Like new money, the blooms
of the locust tree weigh down
the branches. I am certain
it is you I seek: the coin
of an answer, before all is lost.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
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HIS E-MAIL FROM SOMEWHERE
You read me lines before you left.
Love tames all that is wild, you said.
I know I am finally done with running,
but I have no where to go. I can’t find you.
On the G-mail, Yahoo, what have you,
I risk being exposed as a scam scumbug.
I, too, am ill, and I have nothing to leave
except palpable feelings of your touch.
I have become wealthy with these tender
Not pounds nor guineas, but all this gentle
currency that has long lost its value: Love,
love for the wild heart and the wild times.
—Albert B. Casuga
04-02-12
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My response to Luisa’s poem in also posted in my litblog http://ambitsgambit.blogspot.com/2012/04/his-e-mail-from-somewhere.html