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| illustration by Virgil Finlay © |
the transit,
it hurts I cried
this pain of being poem
poet I cl-amble, climb and amble
crawling all the mucks
and muds I can stomach
flavored assuredness
every pause to
gentle let go
a goodbye kiss
we are connected
by our tissues
these lists
that pull at us
agents for
why we rest
to ass end
any day
with shapes
of possible
and what once was
or at least tried to be
another loose end
tied onto another poem
leaving me ...
EJR ©
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