Grass - Poem by Damian Mac
did you know, you just sap it
my only art is bad titles for
books ill never write
my only art is involved in pre-made
arguments before we talk
to be real no take but feel
again a lump in my throat,
to wake up in the joys of spring,
to find again my art and philosophy which
i fear lost
will you come back to me?
my childhood loves and likes?
to stay up all night and enjoy my
own urbane company of a
too bright morning where the grass with ears
upon it tells me it breathes as dappled light,
and fire dew breathes
with our breathes
will i find you again,
will you save this?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You