they're big and they're decimal written in stone one's about an ox one demands, thou shalt love just who commands? surely not that smiling fat buddha, no-- a king a lord before whom you kneel begging for enough to build your own fortress you, princeling of this tyrant who commands love why? Can it not be pillaged? Must he insist? Any child knows: love is spontaneous as laughter and cannot be commanded even for the amusement of the god who demands love in exchange for protection from what he made
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Poems from Other Days
September 2021
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