As
always we hear a politician before a poet
A
show like this moves by emotions not yet
Before
succumbing, not yet to the sparrow
Humble
bird in the flock of why? If we nearly so
Take
such nearby mid-flight chances take
These near-range heights we see from here
Atop
this mountain, the very tip-top—ha!
How sublime, how brave, to straddle the skull
Of
a mountain! I once hollered from a high ridge
But
never from the very brow of a mountain
Goddam
I love the lies of poetry! Oorah!
We all wake up wondering what we all inherit
What does our great-grandmother give us
What
does she bequeath us, is what we wonder
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