Saturday, September 12, 2015

Poetry

 

I bought her book used,
Withdrawn from Marquette
University Library never
Having been checked out
In thirteen years, poetry
Not important in this
Time and place; yet for

Certain ones who strive
In language – not merely –
But see its beauty and
Through something – touch –   
Make some on a
Disconsolate page
Occasionally, it is secretly

Revered, not hidden from
Fear merely – by the foolish
Wandering off into fields
Of it for no good reason,
To Sit on grass smashed
By those rushing past
The library on their way.

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