Poems from the Side of the Filing Cabinet: Two

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Come, sister—read us the truth:

who can explore with no strength?

 

They, on sacred will, persecute

the wanted mind of thy soul pleasure—

 

then your powerful memory

plants desire as a good seed.

 

Up, up through some house above

we see and write our promise

 

that no radiant daughter

will dance in everlasting dark.

 

 

 

 

 

(Yeah, I know it’s lame. At least I wrote something—right?)

 

(I’ve started writing poems when I think I don’t have time for prose. This needs to stop.)

 

(Crumb. I don’t think I can.)

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Ramble back at me...

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