Friday, April 25, 2008

Two and a half poems, probably

Can you tell I've been watching The Drug Years on VH1 Classic?


I gather
was a wilted flower

I was a child of the sixties
nine then
pink-elbowed and
almost pure

believing in love
blind to war
barely aware of people
who gazed into magic smoke
to see what I could see
with child’s eyes

there were always flowers
and they always came back
and the wild ones would grow
(probably even in guns)

later I learned
once you started planting them
that’s when they died on you
the trick of the right nurture
so hard to master
while in the driveway gravel
the violas sang

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