this is the poem
written on the way
to all the other poems
never written at all
it will stand or fall
as needed;
it will answer
what i’ve yet to ask
this is the dream
caught in my throat
and swallowed whole
again and again and again
it will return
with patience
and seductive innocence
that i’ve yet to earn
this is the evening
when other evenings departed
bearing undying fealty
indifferent to my faults
it will invite
a re-engagement of will
answering ancient questions
bearing witness to ancient needs
michaelcoccari.com
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