Can’t Put It in Words But I’ll Try
Can’t put It in words but I’ll try…
Didn’t mind being had, hung out to dry. There
is food in mouldbread, good’s come of bad, I’ve no
beefs, bitter gripes. And besides:
T’were a suspect load I dragged.
We’re grown now, berry’s bit, dice sown, and how.
Are green and grey, in places brown.
My chores (+ questionable deeds) are done.
Was clever as a knife, carved a jigsaw life.
Spat nails in righteousness, squandered hate
(wrong, delicious) down to the
blast-hot penny—glad it’s spent.
Cried a great cry, very late in the day,
and dipped a biscuit in water.
And something worthwhile, many-hued-&-fine,
came clean via palm-packed cakes of
sand, peppered-pinecones, ashes and fat.
Crush my spirit, there’s more of us yet, and
whisk the thick&thin mix.
Will not keep telling lies. There’s a mouthful.
Crows: be commas, colons, punctual dots.
Underscore me, and lend me your skeptical weight.
Some plans won’t fly. Dearly beloved/abandoned, we are
scattered here today…Can’t put It in words but
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