I have poems to sell;
Words tied up in pretty parcels with string
Bundles of clingy sentiments
Love eternal and grief unrequited-
Two for one on weekdays.
And as I shrink, the poems grow fat,
At the breast:
They leave in droves
Out the door with no goodbye
Off to seek their fortune-
I’ve done my part
In truth, I’ve no regrets
I hope that a few of them
Will go somewhere wonderful;
Maybe send a postcard:
Having a great time
Wish you were here.
But time and space are my enemies
Soon I’ll become
Just another shadow
On the landscape
A greener spot of grass
A deserted inn
A dusty road
Where no one will ever go
Except at the urgings of
Insatiable curiosity.
And maybe the old words will recall
Life is somewhat of a disappointment
But it is still worthwhile
For as long as you have it.
Poems For Sale
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