12/22/23

Shepard's Crook (the poem)

 

If I were to talk in my sleep
more eloquently than in life
conversation would flow like playing a fife
not like dull day when thoughts must needs leap
to reach phrase ends first and last
each night to start I could talk with the sheep
I count flying skyword to jump mountains steep
we could talk of politics or futures past
IVs, quarks and dark helicopters of night.

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