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Diesel Jan 20
I made my grandma cry
with my own tears
one of my worst fears
to make my grandma cry
Diesel Jan 14
Some field of ancient roses—
They all looked down on me:
Glew white stars to heaven's
Windows, and golden-rimed clouds
That sonorously speak
Diesel Jan 12
I sit alone in cold wind breeze
At night some time out night air,
And cold wind finds my face homely
And light-***** shine their brightest blare

I'll see some hands that tread alone
All through night they sit alone
Somewhere the sun creeps up on me
But then the moon reminds my soul:

I walk alone along the sky
Sometimes I float and touch too high,
And then I float back down my keep
And felt as once I'd never been.
Diesel Dec 2021
And what you plan to do,
Green plant that sit in room?

Where thinks could be your dreams?
Or do you even dream at all?
What sunsets could you see?
Or swimming shore above?

And question me your roots,
In dirt that act like boots:

Are tickled they like hell?
In brown and white soil?
Can itchy get your face?
Does water run too deep?

Now look at me your leaves,
Which rarely bend from tree:

What age could they recall?
Of passions, dreams, and all?

And what you plan to do,
Green plant that sit in room?
Written Aug 24/21
Diesel Dec 2021
         Fall the starry skies:
      And the clouds that chime above
      In night time do the otters cry
         And wolf-men shout beside the dove:
      Angels sing in pockets queer,
         Fairies dance along the spark,
      Boughs of faces soon appear
         As branches watch throughout the start:
      Owls sing as crickets please,
         The moon lifts her vision for the sky,
               Fall the starry spheres:
            For every moment of the night.
Written Aug ?/21 Revised Dec 29/21
Diesel Dec 2021
Decayéd the sky!
   It throbs in black,
And senile the moon,
    She sit afraid:
Recall back the stars,
   To help the Earth,
Infernal the clime
   On darkness day:

Renewed-well the trees,
   To breathe us right,
Relighted the stars—
   But blackened all—
Refiltered the dirt,
   The breeze takes eyes—
But soured the work,
   By crows in fall:

Despondent the moon;
   The sun is gone:
Decrepit the wave,
   On weakened sea;
Uncharted on earth,
   Where none belong,
And a wilted land—
   The black in skies.
Written Jul 6/21
Diesel Dec 2021
He might stop and dream of ponds
To sit and play with forever eve:
He might sit with trees till summer's day
Or maybe swim with many fish
Or touch the sky with his geese
Maybe he'll play with spiders nigh
Or creep along with midnight bugs
On his road might he run—
With stray cats that nightly come
Or sit along with navy trees
And dance along the flowers fun
Might he chat once with a moon
And ask it why it shines so white
Or talk with grass why green it grows
Or talk with spirits all through night.
Written Jun ?/21
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