Thursday, February 6, 2014

There Is No Recipe


The poetry of this life is the clarity of this life
The elevation and the elegance of it
The clear seeing into it—which is also transport
It is beyond the truth, not tricked
Reduced, as a sauce is, intensified
One can construct it out of anything
Cancer as bright as conception, all assembled
In freedom, jinxed, and clear

No comments:

Post a Comment