A Clean Forgotten Month Poem by Seth Burns

A Clean Forgotten Month



When a man stepped, I ate.
When a pig gasped, I drank.
I hated sand, when it hurt my friend,
And bubbled on the shale, my friend.
Besides memory, that's what I live for:
A voyage not complete.
When the dewdrop fell,
I knew the world could see in light.

Monday, March 10, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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Seth Burns

Seth Burns

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