Michael Ardizzone Poems
All of your nonsense is sense to me
your truth I'll take for any that can be.
I'll suffocate in the fruit that you bear
and dedicate myself to a strand of your hair.
my strength, it will take all of time to recount,
how your strength do I see as my strength's font
And in this death we two will bonded forever be
because, unlike you, i've lost all of me.
There's no glass left
to break in my hand
when I make a fist.
There's no strength left
in my swollen pride
to make a fist.
and to raise it,