should smile a lot
but not bow
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There’s budding in the springtime;
flowering in the summertime;but winter comes to all..
Today a windy Monday,
I would make a great altarand pile it high as heavenwith washing straight off the lineshirts like roly-poly hunchbackastronauts like human kitesa sharp flapping of hemmed edgesthe squawk of hens surprisedlaundry baskets full of the smellof Spring and freshness and new beginningslaundry baskets that smell as ifa walk along the shores of loveall Your wind…
Today is the day after;
yesterday, black present filled the mind;today, not even light on blackness..a day not on the calendar;an empty diary entry;faith smaller than a mustard seed;hope an untilled field.This is what a present withno future feels like;the mercy onlythat there is a present;among the closest, the rumourof a promise so etherealit has no shape or formto build…
Film meets the poetic image,
out there alone in the prairie –the steppes, the tundra,snowfields, desert –past midnight, the heavensa carpet of stars, maybe a flashover the horizon of Northern Lights,or the centered assurance of the Southern Cross,silence broken only by a howl,was that a wolf,just one observer asa camera, a poet, whomwe never see..and then a distant sound andone…
Your life is a mess? In every way?
Your fault? Or that of others?Does it matter which, any more?Tears maybe? Time, then,for a laugh…try this:thank your lucky stars –or whatever or whoeveryou might thank, in the unlikelychance you feel like thanking –for the freewill that allowed youto create this lifelong mess..You’re joking? What a laughable idea!That’s totally absurd and inappropriate..ineffective, too…go on –…
The Honourable ‘Stinky’ Fartbutton
being burdened with such a nameuntil one dread night,surfing a website,he found he’d achieved a tasteless fameblinking to the left of hallowed poetic texton Poemhunter… ‘Whatever next..? ! ‘exclaimed The Honourable Asafoetida Fartbutton, B. Litt., and thenreached for his pen(sorry, people, but really…)