Painis complacentto thingsyou blame.Blissis tenacious,despite thingsyou change.
I am a poet, blind,with a vague ideain my mind.
The fallen flag of inspirationis stained with passions.
The child points and says,"Look, mommy, look!"The poet points and says,"Look, world, look!"The collective groans,then sighs.Mommyresponds aftera long pause:What?
Miniature lief.A pixel. A byte.
a way to purgeon paper,truths.i read a catalog of 1000 sentences.there were too many.none gave me a lover.all just wentforward.
I bought a bookand read half of it