"Ye Shall Know Me by My Fruits"


as sad as a morning glory that has never met

her glory I am damp with seeds that have never met

the portent and wise sunlight—

damp with grinding dreams at my hoof and

damper after they sodden cold with dawn’s


nothing reverts or inverts, it all formulates into

winter’s beginning and continuance…


morning glories inspire me and I aspire to

strain and someday, somehow and somewhere be


to be chosen and entitled.


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