Poets Lament


clouds and grass

 

 

 

 

 

A post hole digger

at best

at best some irises ,

at best

the wind making waves in the grass

at the very least

death

making waves in time

there could be no other way

there could be no other way

type it out each time

type it twice

No more whiskey of the mind.

See the grass between the toes?

See the cloud?

That’s Wordsworth’s cloud.

That’s Whitman’s grass.

Yours truly

An obscure poet in an anonymous  place

singing songs of grass and clouds.

Rattle your chains.

Bang the pots and pans and slam the cabinet doors.

Rattle your chains

Pick at the lock

Do not go

quietly below the clouds and grass

 

 


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