after all the talk of coffee from brahic, vance, rq
Everyone’s having children now My legs, I say my legs,
Are not vines to be - - Wash your grubby little hands
Playing in the soil, morning noon and night,
Morning like a bridegroom throwing open the doors
I will drink my coffee, children, until Leave the butterflies
Alone They are exquisite wonderful They go to Mexico
Piling over the mountains Scraps of blown around paper with daddy’s
GPS in their magnetic blood
---------I’ll drink my coffee, children, black as soil
---------Until I sympathize with you or whichever comes first
---------Get to your level
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment