no facts are sure no eminence is more gloried
no thoughts more pure
ten times the day is logged into
papers artifacts and journals
they say more than any book
real life the essences
of skin and flesh and bone
ten times the brain stems energy
into a theory a rainbow a painting a poem
written down under tears stains sobs
catching breaths
onto last months utility bill
or the latest eviction notice
a  masterpiece of hearted stone words lost
in the next day's trash pickup and the
***** stinking men sweating
running behind
the loud crushing metal truck the plastic
bins thrown casually into with
callous ignorance go the memories of lost souls
poets who might have made
Emerson cry choke
feel