Poem 1, 2022


Let's make work of beginnings.

Think prelude, how the masters
leave little worlds on their own
till one is found by accident
or plan by one willing Don or Donna.

What makes a prelude?

Length? 'Cause I hear of long and short,
a featherlight motif and rainclouds reprised.
Is it the promise that after this the music will roll
to no end

What do I make of this Opus?

A collection of beginnings, each complete
on its own, should stand together. My memories,
each like a book that in a shelf cannot stand by itself,
call for a master arrangement.

—Razel Estrella

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