A soul in no need

Though is so fullest of pride so finest in mind
Rough to see thee, for a relief to be in need
Thee's soul shall be free and strong over all
Had thee asked the reason of a such they sell
Yet they of smoking of drinking thee convince
Since customer a companion in thee they see
The body for seconds enjoy as smoke runs
That joy of now through deficiency of lungs
In nature for thee's soul to freshness refined
Dilemmas are made for tobacco to be sold
Thus in the mother shelter we ourselves find

fake relationships

In this modern world
Where everything seems fake
There are few genuine relationships left

Most relationships are market driven
How can this person help me
In my career or in life
What can I get from them
How can I use them for my advantage

And what do they want in return
And we are all nothing but personal brands
Competing all the time for the next gig job

And  romance
Has been reduced  to sexual lust
And nothing more



Our clothes tatter, our shoes smell,
our wood decays, our paper brittles,
our marble chips, our silver tarnishes,
our drives corrupt, our food rots,
our steel rusts, our wine sours.
Faded and faltering

Some things are nice, some necessary
Some liked, some lusted after
Some longer lived, some longer liked.
Some adored, some abused,
Some displayed, some defaced,
Donated and discarded

We all ate dinner

by selfia

Can we go back to when
we drank wine cured in a cat's eyes
Kayla read us Ethiopian poems
while she scratched back my hair
Dani and I curled beneath the heater
they waited for the thrashing of the train
and then I was alone

originally published on cowbird.com

A Lark's Flight

In the quiet City park,
Between the dawn and the dark,
Loud and clear,
That all may hear,
Sings the Lark.

Beyond the low black line
Of trees the dawn peeps red, —
Clouds blow woolly and fine
In the ether overhead,
Out of the air is shaken
A fresh and glistening dew,
And the City begins to awaken
And tremble thro' and thro';
See! (while thro' street and lane
The people pour again,
And lane and alley and street
Grow hoarse to a sound of feet,)
Here and there
A human Shape comes, dark

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