The Song Of Beebo


I opened my eyes this morning

and my need to write blossomed

totally and thoroughly.


I am made of seeds and soil,

water and care. I blinked and sunshine

unfurled from cloud causing me to glow

from toenails to hair folicles.


Yes, I create a world to share or live in  

or cast on any wind that will lift my weight

and carry my imagination.


I am a man. My hands are as strong

as my back and my intention is hardwired

to my will to take one step. Two.


When the day is done, I can return

to rerun my days by writing them down

as clearly as possible from the haze

of memory and the challenges of time.







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