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the River of forgetfulness

My hours are married to Shadows....

“In the hours they spent chewing my bones, I grew a stone for my heart, and poisoned the rivers that ran through me. I studied the bloodless moon.”
H.C.M
2 years ago. October 16, 2022 at 10:35 PM

You ask for a poem.

I offer you a blade of grass.

You say it is not good enough.

You ask for a poem.

 

I say this blade of grass will do.

It has dressed itself in frost,

It is more immediate

Than any image of my making.

 

You say it is not a poem,

It is a blade of grass and grass

Is not quite good enough.

I offer you a blade of grass.

 

You are indignant.

You say it is too easy to offer grass.

It is absurd.

Anyone can offer a blade of grass.

 

You ask for a poem.

And so I write you a tragedy about

How a blade of grass

Becomes more and more difficult to offer,

 

And about how as you grow older

A blade of grass

Becomes more difficult to accept.

 

– Brian Patten

 

1. Natalia Drepina

2. anthropomorphicadolls

3. anthropomorphicadolls

 


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