Channelling

June 22 2011

The famous author talked

about her characters

taking on lives of their own.

Like a disengaged God

who sets the world in motion

and then is gone,

letting fee will, anarchy, passion

reign.

So I wonder, do we all contain

this universe of characters

lurking unaware?

First sleep,

incoherent dreams

that vanish, when I waken.

Now this multitude

who accompany me, unseen.

Conscious

of a miniscule sliver

of my own reality, it seems.

I would love to know

if I’m the hero

of my own existence,

or just an extra, a walk-on part;

indispensable

or unscripted?

Or is my singular conceit

all there is?

Sometime, a poem comes out

effortlessly,

like automatic writing

like channelling.

A voice whispers in my ear,

and I do its bidding

unwittingly.

So who is the speaker,

and which is me?

And do we ever meet,

and in whose dreams?