Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Blooming Dogwood Valentine

I remember one night
At fifteen hearing Charles
Olson read in Toronto
I liked that he strived
For a dark grandeur though
I didn’t understand a word
It was the fifties and I
Was still a fugitive of love
Which I confused with art
At each stage of life we’re
Completely different people
And if one of us gets to live
Long enough we can all gather
In one room and talk it out

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