(26 March 1955 / Eugene, Oregon)

What do you think this poem is about?

Not Saints But Men

Swaying uselessly
In the loose wind
Floating in
Finite expectancy
Of summer without end

To have a great gift
And not know it

To only fantasize
And not actualize
Except on passion
For passion's sake

Caught in spidery entanglement
Of esoteric intrigue
While flowing in consciousness
Of personal design

(Blue River, Oregon 1978)

Submitted: Sunday, January 14, 2007
Edited: Saturday, December 25, 2010


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