Friday, November 4, 2016


Hubris says these dreams are mine
But sense looks skeptical
"Show me some proof of ownership --
A sales receipt, a deed, a will
Naming you residual heir
To your great grandfather's dreams
And his ceremonial spoon collection.
Or just show me the tools
With which you crafted them
And I'll call them yours. No; it's a trick
Language has played on you.
Examine one; is it not older, craftier,
Sturdier than you? Your  soul,
Finding an hour's shelter in a place
Vast and changing, whistles a tune,
Puts beer in the refrigerator,
Says 'this is mine.' "

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