the poems of a poet
read like a diary encrypted
in shorthand, don’t you think?
word pictures sketched
of pain curiosity affection
fleeting truths
thoughts and feelings
gathered then twisted
and scattered in verse
unrhymed like life
two words trying to fit
undercut by life
some are frivolous
to cheer up our too serious
too hurt too lost selves
I like those of dusk
when the world
starts to settle
and the ones of evening
that depthless pool of silence
impossible to capture
when so many hearts
break the mood
for a midnight dip
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