Outfall
A Collection of Poems
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Showing posts with label
Common measure
.
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Showing posts with label
Common measure
.
Show all posts
All Right
The thing about the moon is that
it is not quite a star.
You know when you are looking at.
You know when so you are.
The moon, in fact, is very bright.
An expert it is not.
The star, you see, produces light.
And it is much to hot.
Torment of Doing That
One work does make me quite displeased,
and that is to be known.
That should have happened when it ceased,
the work I call my own.
I am a child. There should have been
a mother there to care,
who saw to it that I was seen
whenever I was clear!
There should have been a mother there
which saw to it I left,
by gratitude, and not by fear.
What to suspect is theft!
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