GRASS Poem by Marije Langelaar
GRASS
The magic has been on the prowl for days
stimulates and pushes thousands of men
to a small cast-iron fence everything is still closed but
already it germinates
prepare us for action, born naked, stretch
our hands upwards
push away now shoot into the air
all at once blinded by the light
grope into the wind and wait
Monday, September 24, 2018
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5/20/2024 8:50:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
