Fields of Poetry

I don't know how to love him
What to do, how to move him
I've been changed. Yes, really changed
In these past few days when I've seen myself
I seem like someone else . . .

Friday, January 2, 2009

The Grouch that Flew Away

In a can hides a little hairy monster
that I never can
grow to love,
so, I kicked the canister,
with it in there, rolling away,
but, bless the thing, green -- obscene,
it sprouted colorful and shiny wings
and broke the tin:
sovereign, imperial, celestial;
flying away ...

And there I watched it go;
Ergo, I stood alone;
I judged on what I see,
And not from what I could know.

thegrouch.wma - Pmel


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