STANZA I
The ducks
there are did like
How I like
them all.
But I will
never know a duck
Or how a
duck at all.
STANZA II
They may be
responsive
But not in the way you desire:
So many, so
many, so many
Things left
to discover, to explain.
STANZA
III
In process,
in memory,
All things
told but not heard once.
No one
feels the grape on the toe
Or the
opportunity that fosters a
Further
one. That which is planned,
Sealed by
the stars as an exile once
Dreamed of
yet starkly shook by its
Very
embrace. Plainly mine, a chance.
As often
they speak what which made
Them. All
or not at all alike, likely alone.
STANZA IV
I meant to
wish to go there along with
All my
wishes and wants and whatnots.
STANZA V
It is not
easy to grow more un-
Easy, even
while practicing the craft
Of a
betterment of temperament. The
False
things always seem right, as right
As a
left-handed letter writer can be.
They will
always will the crowd towards
Coupling, a
still minor fraction of what we
Always call
words. Do you do or do you not
Do, or do
you sometimes do and other times
Not do? Not
what the could have left to be a
Do or not
do? A typical arrangement? A possible
Burden on
the done and not done already done,
We speak
our cares that carry our worry in our
Sacks like
how we like them to be, hidden, yet
Wholly open
and available because we are, also, too.
