Poetry: September 20, 2003

Even on the asphalt 
I always take the blame
though far removed from my 
stomping ground 
still, 
I shake the tree and 
the beat comes down

 


 

Come to this view -
  The planets are but marbles 
That time threw out 
To place 
Markers in space 
And relax the pace 
And the veins 
That connect them, 
Are ours 
To trace

 



If you don't like my brew 
Then sip it through a straw 
If its all right with you
I like to keep it raw



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