Sunday, November 28, 2004

I wrote this one for a friend of mine...

tired & poor
but there's always more.
mysteries not solved in memory
or dreamed of in eternity

hop-scotch for hippies
checkers for the blind
sometimes you have to swivel
to see what you find
when you're not talkin downtown
you're walkin up the street
sometimes there is no policy
in poetry
save idolatry.


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