Author

Theodore Geisel makes me want to jump up and down,
tasting far-off hams and counting fish with my hands.
He uses primary colors to apprehend language
and announces the use of sounds with glee and charm.
His politik involves rhyme scheme and consonants,
while his voice soothes the joint human soul.

Pablo Neruda makes me want to fall in love
and then have my heart ripped out.
He makes me want to be in pain
so that I can write fancy sentences.
He uses the compass of feeling in order to make
emotion political and logic into song.

Roald Dahl makes me want to be a witch
so I can turn small boys into mice.
He makes me want to eat lollipops specifically
to turn my tongue colors; forget the sucrose.
He enforces childhood on the old
with clairvoyant ammo and sugary soldier-suits.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez makes me want to learn magic
so that I can figure out how his nouns work.
His libros make me weep with jealousy and pure blood.
He creates in me an addiction to the process of the heart
and weaves limitless nostalgia through my pores.
I transcribe my words with his breath.