Contemplate what mind erases,
what would I turn out in phases,
Eating like a fool who grazes
Out on Jack-Ass Green.
The stars may wilt if prayers land on
cool, night airs’ wind, I am torn
between the warmth and cold of night
so Day, decide for me . . .
the fall of rain is in my ear,
the call of pain is gone, but clear . . .
in it's old, stale memory-
Day cannot decide for me...
......"the farmer's prick still hurts you here,
it's stain is thick, refuse, my dear,
don't be like the fool who's clearly
out on Jack-Ass Green"........
......."crazy, how the clouds will part
and make room for such angry hearts
who lick with their old farmer's parts-
they prick to feed their mean"......
don't contemplate what mind erases,
only fools turn out those phases,
eat somewhere else-
no more grazing
copyright 2007 Rose Loya