for Jim
I've turned through your years
as no doubt you book-marked
through those of your own
aging poets.
In fewer than five years, I've read you to bed for forty-five.
Yet for suffering with you, I'm none the wiser.
Doomed, I'll make the same mistakes and
come to classify them otherwise.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home