Oh for the unknown feet
Fresh, unshoed callous-free
Soft to see
The puttied earth asqueeze
Between a hand of toes
Would then walking be
Full with feels and grass-roots sights
And run so feather-light
As to fly one leg at a time?
Would the virgin thorn
Or unwashed bottle chip
Cut so deep I'd forget to clot
Softly naked
But not fleeing from
The Man who walks the evening.
Monday, January 05, 2015
Counselling is a Lie
Counselling is a lie You cannot hold space. Space is breathed Moved in Inhabited Moved within Space is sized Larger, smaller Sometimes too ...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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Final Thoughts From an AGM You want to mess with me? I can take you down a notch Spill the beans I’ll spill your blood Tooth for tooth, splo...
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Standing on a Hillside Sometimes you look back on where you have been Past the cloud-fluffy daffodils bobbing and green Through the deep dar...
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