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From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold
Great grey belly porker,
toothy yawning slug,
giant in the mud,
That fire, they said, was red as red as redas red as a fox, your lips, a cherry;that fire, they said spread and spread and spread,faster than a cheetah or a nasty rumour;
Fire under footfall.Fire over skies.
Fire on a matchstick.Fire in my eyes.
Fire holding hunger.Fire seeking wood.
Fire hiding danger.Fire feeling good.
Forest could keep secretsForest could keep secrets
I give you clean air
You give me poisonous gas.
I give you mountains
You give me quarries.
I give you pure snow
You give me acid rain.
'Why do you run?' I asked the river,'So fast I can't compete.''I run,' the river said, 'becauseI have some streams to meet.'
I am in a forest;My brothers will never find me here.Over my head is a green umbrella;I feel the earth under my bare feet.
More Pointless Questions
which glass do you
A bowl of glass
or a pond that ripples
The willow and the windare natural dancing partners;look how the willow weepswith the joy of movement,skillfully rooted to the spot.
Here now skyline assembles fire.The sun collects up to leave.Its bright following paled,suddenly all goes. Dusk rushesin, like door closed on windowless room.