Poetry flows when I feel my life coming to grips with itself
the visions coming faster, questions tumble, candy from a jar
are we here as something more than a stepping stone
along the journey of life’s longing for itself?
The wind blows, the leaves fall, the mottled sunlight carresses me
but my mind considers here…
am I God or man, mortal or immortal
does it matter, these things I think?
what does the ant think in the sink
when the plug is pulled?
gallagher
23 jun 83 – Irvine, CA
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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