A Lowly, Impure Thing Poem by james watkin

A Lowly, Impure Thing

These weedy rhygrasses
Worts, flourish in dung
Each plain up-stood growth, counted
As we are among
Must bear, as you'd expect
What thrashingly blows
For a will, as senseless
Each pain for it glows.

Saturday, September 30, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: earth,human
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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