Stuff On Stuff Poem by Bill Grace

It is the brick and mortar of the current Western perhaps even Eastern
Ethos.Put it on steroids the city's sky line.
Executives bragging on a plane to each other whose building is tallest.

We love our stuff we can not control the errant beauty approaching with themystique of her own agenda.The debutante is a further level
of hierarchy up.We love our stuff it is ok
even a child can be seen this way,
though I wish it were not so.

I have loved stuff greatly over many years but
when the body has become cadaver and cadaver dust,
death will not have had the last word
because there was a pulse called love,
that not even sex could tame.