A response poem to Chen-ou's: "Aging Loneliness is Dead: A Tanka Sequence"
A muse sings
in my left ear,
a siren's call:
"He has killed his muse.
See her there,
between the lines
of his poetry.
You can have her..."
I can have loneliness?!
Should I revive her?
Feed her
my friends,
my longings...
I sit here alone,
musing the thought.
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