How can I write joy
without seeming a sappy
fool at the cliff's edge?
How can I touch you
when you are roiled and knotted
up with disaster
if I am so free
of the darkness that besets
you, many others?
How can I be you
if I am at peace when you steam
in the world kettle?
But how can I lie,
Tell you I'm fading and dim
when it's just not true,
when sadly and soon
it will be again my turn
treed, to snap and snarl.
January 17, 2011 3:52 PM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.