Thursday, January 15, 2015

Poem - wherever we are

at some point the artist or writer
all you have is your work
and it is not well received
or seen at all

i saw a flat marker one time
in the corner of a burying ground
and i scraped off the mud
and some letters chewed away

APRIL 14 1905 - M -- 1953

i imagined all the poems
in shoe-boxes in fleamarts
writers in tiny towns or city
small apartments still giving
it a go

most of their work is bad
but they can't or won't stop
or their work is great
and more is the pity
wherever we are


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