Monday, August 14, 2017

By Shallow Rivers To Whose Falls Melodious Birds Sing Madrigals

My marks faded fast.
Everything I remembered
Was flimsy and anything
I could invent was too sad.

The one who knows it's no good
But keeps trying anyway?
I invented that.

The other who understood
With wildflowers come the ghosts?
I invented that.

But what did I remember?
There was a creek in the woods
Where I laid my love
Before stepping off the cliff.

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