Ode To The Unfinished Poem Poem by Randy Resh

Some say that it’s no use,
crying over spilt ink

The piece is done
-now leave it in the moment

Take the time to feel the flowers;
absorb inhale aroma

a 'literreal ambrosia


But:

by the blue-blooded balls of Byron and
Billy Butler Ba-Buckin-eh Yeats


I so swear:

From the lips of every aching letter
there lies in limbo craving cradle
sobbing sum of crying character
something far the much more greater:

“I know that it’s good but,
we can do so far the better”





copyright Randy Resh 2002-08-...