via Paul Giles
It’s all been said before. Say it in other frames. Where can poetry reside? Wherever you find it. Find it.
Once a dream I wish on friends,
Oh by faces - passing hands.
that like lemon drops to you
Where you can’t see for the blue.
Kiss my sleeping children for me.
Humbly and utterly lost,
Christmas is in the air.
Save us all from Satan’s power.
What a terrifyingly different world Experience is. Here, imagination is squeezed into a vice, and each human feels divorced from any possible creator, let alone its fellow citizen.
"Still you're somebody used in need,
that feels I never could Now let go."
What they think can’t break. The good of your strength can be.