Reciting Poetry

I recite poetry
Reading poetry does not give life
To the words 
Trapped by my dyslexic eyes
Written letters form unspoken syllables
I never hear the magic then
Poetry spoken has a power
Reading I guess does too
I read poetry aloud
To myself
In my room 
Almost noon
Overlooking Bleecker Street
I hear laughter of students
Cars 
Then near nothing
I speak
THe only sound
My words 
To an audience of one
I hear
A whisper off my lips
Or even louder 
The words vibrate in my throat
Like I am plucking the bass strings
Trying to put together a Mingus riff
To say what is in me
About apartness
About love 
About my childhood
About a dream to see my children
So faraway
On the other side of the world
I wish the words were magic
Like the click of Dorothy's heels
Oz gone
Not to Kansas
And me not here
On Bleecker Street
But Sri Racha 
On the Gulf of Siam
With my family
And that is the magic of spoken poetry__