Tuesday, February 13, 2018

When the Epikurean Are Defeated

Flowers drop on smooth concrete
In another garden these people are free

They know how to bear the toil
Of non-slavery

We can speak to them now, in smiles and concepts
Hands stretched out in lieu of hearts

What if all they need becomes a given?
Does it matter if they no more can want?

What will drive the legs to the next crosswalk
At First and Main, Royal and Squalor

When the hole deep inside
Can be lit with the lamp of the stars?

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