No, I do not seek
yet more pain even though it
comes like a John Deere
over the berm to
mow me down. I'm the weedy
verge of the long road
to a destiny
that looms at the horizon
of my love for you.
August 14, 2010 4:34 PM
I add the date of composition to the poem for just this kind of thing. This poem is brand new in that it has never appeared on the blog before but it is over three years old now. If it was ever current emotionally, it is not now. On the other hand it is a Raven's tale. They might be factual. They are often true. Ravens like shiny things.
That's a mean, green machine. I'd quake at the thought of it mowing me down...
ReplyDeleteLove your poem, whenever it was written. :)