Wednesday, November 18, 2009

eyes know if a lit tle tree listens


Art abandoned me
Left me out
On a wide and empty sea- no features there
But endless caps of peaks and green sky
(If I had served it as I had served my king)
If I am alone with a pocketful of teeth
Here, short and growling in the trees of Conmee
Then, a wonderful old fart is what I’ll be,
Who doesn’t know when to take his leave.
Certainly morning gives way to afternoon doubt
Before we were sure and delighted
We come to the breech probably to preach beauty
But are left muttering while accepting the charity
Of ignorant, sunny-winked strangers.

The dancing take the footpath
Delighted in walking to the province of light
And leave their good name
On an ignorant handkerchief
By the roadside six-eyed and coming of age
Then laugh and mail itself a letter
In the form of little red boxes
And finally forget about good.

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