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
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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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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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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