A Minute In The Mind Of A Poet
this work was done, a death view of paradise
& probably not the end, of it last night
(what a magnificent day, i said to myself
"fine" everyone i know your draught, savant
i regard all of you, their are no lives that
rebuff, their own uninterested day or night
of self-love, a movement to wail, into space,
moments to argues pine there time
as far as i can see a trimmer of seconds
i don't live to isobront my speech, nor
egest my words, while sleeping on a bed of
fasten coexistence, with a whitesmith
to mold my disparage, not me, not i, not
overweening, nor self-indulgence with
idolatry---
aspiration, grasping, meekness
Introspection of my soul.....
Copyright ©2006 Thomas G. Valle
