Poems come and go from the thought (like wind) from the soul (like fire) from the ever present desire to mean something. Doesn't matter what or how much or how large a thing . . . to mean something even the size of a splinter is rare, beautiful in its naked shape.
Resist
When your legs give out,
fall to your knees.
When your knees collapse,
slam face down
into the ground.
When you’ve tire of that,
stand up, ready yourself
to fall again . . . and again.
Woodie o3-o8-18
Resist
Stand
as
long as you can.When your legs give out,
fall to your knees.
When your knees collapse,
slam face down
into the ground.
When you’ve tire of that,
stand up, ready yourself
to fall again . . . and again.
Woodie o3-o8-18
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