Saturday, March 24, 2018

Or This

In capitalism there is no place
for the numinous

the unspoken virtues of weeds

milkweed and mildew
in an abandoned pot

to embrace the valueless
has value

spring snow melts
off the car windshield

there is a haze of cloud
over the fir greened hills

“red twiggy stuff”
(as Williams called it)

there is no coin
minted for this moment

no one can sell stock

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