Today's poem is wildly in need of consistent metaphor and yet it has SOMETHING meaningful to say (if only to me):
To Love the Weeds
Savories of slivered scream,
remembered dream of bridges built
across illusion’s reign
the simple sparkle of clear water.
No hiss, no whispered foul shall
smirch
my curtains drawn wide open
upon these weary shores
of slow drawn stretch.
May you be soon reborn to feel
the glow of autumn’s crimson paling
the slow twitch end of greening hope,
the kiss of forming statue
that is inexorably ME.
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