The posings of a poet.

Immutable Force

As I expand to meet and grow beyond the fences
I find when I push outward against them it takes a will of senses
And it is often easier to fall
Back into the measured simple familiar temple of metre
and fail to find the rate at which I’m not repeater
but fire into the world something new to all
But I suppose old Solomon got it after all for There
is nothing new but to view your my vanity of hot air
and wonder at the slipper left at the ball
I have list to idle chatter of what this and that the matter
and smile and pray that soon the day the world will shatter
as an artist rises to this call
Would that it were me but no I think I have much room
to grow inside this growing growth though it may be my tomb
if I do not push out upon the wall

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