To Witness a Thing(Introduction)
I’m already laughing
at myself, with all this
poetry is business…
------------------------
Poetry is a
the witness.
The winter
of a thing.
Poetry is
clearly not
the summer
of a thing.
All sunny bright
lacking in moodiness
and darkened clouds
as
the last
remaining
hungry
robin
looks
for
it’s last
meal to feed
the last
of her kind,
hopping
from emptied
berry bush
to emptied
berry bush
as the solemn
PBS voiced
narrator
dips
his brush
into his
sad
self satisfying
oratory voice over
where
nothing ends well.
.
.
.
Or does it.
SBJ Studio 