Kneeling in barrenness of
Valley and Shadow intersecting, the end of me
more like nowhere than beginning again.
The Poet would beg to differ.
I, here,
Always here,
Search for anything - anything
at all, really.
Valley and Shadow intersecting, the end of me
more like nowhere than beginning again.
The Poet would beg to differ.
I, here,
Always here,
Search for anything - anything
at all, really.
With knuckles deep in seconds,
I tend to the stagnancy of Time
Let these roots just take– oh please
It is rotten soil in stasis
and pleas bear no claim on It –
The linear son of a bitch.
Over and over, the tilling continues,
I tend to the stagnancy of Time
Let these roots just take– oh please
It is rotten soil in stasis
and pleas bear no claim on It –
The linear son of a bitch.
Over and over, the tilling continues,
Blind hope - Insanity
Expecting a different result.
The watch pot does boil, eventually
But this ground is not so steady in its rhythm
Clinging- in this barren ground - in
Darkness - this place where Valley and Shadow intersect -
I watch for the springing step of new life.
And I till some more.
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