a midsummer poem
stirred like a picked mushroom
in a primordial soup
I in a dance with day and trees
find no way to tell you
why motion is so important
waves are men on the run
a dessert full of scorpions
there are recipes for making bombs
and swift butterflies
that only live for a few days
remedies are for the naked
routines are for the sleeping
one can always be more
it's in the nature of day's order
in the beingness of it all
ancient vernal equinox
with fairy dreams and pixies
rolling with laughter
it is just a dream we lost
nothing more
Poetry by Bob
Read 677 times
Written on 2017-06-24 at 00:52
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shells |
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JohnJohn |
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ken d williams |
| Texts |
 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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