deepundergroundpoetry.com
HARE
How my raw palms twitch
In sun's last tingle
No one knows
I'm here
Not gulls-a-gossiping
Not coal cloud clusters or oaken shadows
The railway and the salt road
Knew me
Entombed in lost and found
Enrobed in memory
Encased in the mirror
In the room marked Gents
Or cut on glass on the bar room floor
Hare Hare Hare
Who's gazing at the harvest moon
Who now runs with the deer
Who's chomping the still fresh green
In this summer's last tingle
A lucky lucky hare
That's who
Good Morning sleepyhead
Who's open palm catches the plum
Yes - You
Gratitude is not a gift
Gratitude is waking
In sun's last tingle
No one knows
I'm here
Not gulls-a-gossiping
Not coal cloud clusters or oaken shadows
The railway and the salt road
Knew me
Entombed in lost and found
Enrobed in memory
Encased in the mirror
In the room marked Gents
Or cut on glass on the bar room floor
Hare Hare Hare
Who's gazing at the harvest moon
Who now runs with the deer
Who's chomping the still fresh green
In this summer's last tingle
A lucky lucky hare
That's who
Good Morning sleepyhead
Who's open palm catches the plum
Yes - You
Gratitude is not a gift
Gratitude is waking
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