Don’t Forget Your Hands Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Don't forget your hands or your freedom root
Everything lies tangled in its true ways
The road to the sources of each pursuit
Spectrums and aspect on how it all plays
Follow around in its reaching richness
Freshness that gets loose like your fingerprints
In to the forest of exuberance
That sprinkles like water in wrap up rinse

Transparent brood of the mixing of things
Spreading the rivulet in to brand new
Everything holds - though some back takes
A tone of new freshness in accord sings
Bringing its bushel to the texture queue
Giving entire paint in what it wakes


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