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You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
 Jun 2016 Tommy Jackson
Polar
I stand before you

Bare, bold, naked

To hold a mirror

Against your hatred
A few months I haven't called him

At the beck and call at any hour
And the shortest notice
A dial to him has saved many an emergency

Last night a broken female voice
On the other side of the wire
Mumbled he died on May 13

Left her with three daughters
At forty at short notice

The plumber is dead

Now who would clear
My choked wash basin

The plumber is dead
And I've no other number to call

I couldn't see her face
Gauge the faceless sorrow
At the other side of the wire

The plumber is dead

I must find another
And then rejoice
Forgetting the widow's choked voice
....
Your soft strokes of brush
As if touches my dreamy springtime
Peaks love from the old trash
Where the endless fairy of rhyme
As I read this poem
So many times
It doesn't mean that
I have forgotten repeatedly
Just I have felt in too many ways
Yet a few lines of poem
Grows a new meaning of love
And emitting the dreaming rays
Even when I am passing through
The very pale days
...
..
without dream life is a frozen barren field
....
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