STATES OF MATTER
Everything is like everything else
yet we make distinctions.
Grief and joy each have their voice
without words
the face of each is known.
Water rolls downward
tears, rivers, glaciers.
It rises only as a mist
by heat or cold
too rare to see.
J
posted by Jack H @ 14:35
1 comments
1 Comments:
This was written as a direct response to Brautigans poem, sent to me by Paul, in the comments of "He Seems to be Granite." Just for the context.
J
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