You are nagging
at the back of my mind
whimpering
in the corners
and back pockets
of my awareness
still I am
part of this grass at last
content with the flaws
that are permanent laws
of nature
NO such thing as too much writing
my pen spills words
like Chevron spills oil
polluting paper with the poetry of soil
pulsing
through my ink veins
onto dead fibers of processed trees
please
on my knees
I lost the keys
to lust ignited by trust
Part of this grass at last
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