Transfiguring The Smile Of A Child - Poem by Gus Schreiber
I sit alone, praying for sickness
or some sledgehammer of validation
as I step out into the twilight heat
And let the bugs at me
So only to justify the itching
To my ever practical eyes.
Im asking you, my friend,
For a loathsome slab of stone
To beat my useless fists against
Now that I thirst for only saltwater
Having transfigured clear springs to murk
With my ever practical mind.
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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