Copyright (C) 1993, Luigi Semenzato.  All Rights Reserved.
Any public or private reproduction prohibited.
Do not memorize, translate, transliterate, alliterate,
or illiterate.
FBI Warning: prosecutors will be violated.
The author reserves the right to change
any part of this poem without prior notice.

THE GENTLE WINDSURFING POET IN WINDLESS EXILE

My pencil runs
on candid leaf,
a speed that stuns
beyond belief.

My pencil flies
above the wave,
my dreaming eyes
see what I crave:

the sweeping gust
that lifts a veil
of spray, the thrust,
the churning trail;

the wind that purls
the seamless sea,
the breaker's curls,
the sailor's glee;

the colored wings
on springy shafts,
the wind that flings
the magic crafts;

the ramp that sends
my body aloft,
a flight that ends
not often soft.

Green eyes on pale
sweet face, a sigh,
the song she sung
and made me cry.

Just let me sail:
my pen will fly,
and I'll be young
until I die.

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(This poem is dedicated to my former girlfriend Martha)