#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook 5


flowers have such courage
not for them the fear
that opening their spirit will be condemned

and yet when passing a meadow
the closed man does not see
the strength required to feed the bee

so it leads to judgment
of what is good and what is bad

or to the vase
in which all shrink


oh rise! oh dimmed morning star
relax your light into the sky

while lamps of oil illuminate
the texts and tracts of certain strife

amid wealth's architecture
square set and concrete


today someone will suffer
but their pain not make no mark

it will miss the grand idea
be not judged worthy of report
or be not on the list
for those who joust with lives


beneath my nails
a halo of grey spreads
from scratching an itch

the more I scrape it
the more it grows
and darkens into a putty of salt

once it was me
my beard
the thought that tickled my ear


why should we complain?

why should be not just grow old
and rejoice that a cough
may loosen a tooth

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