deepundergroundpoetry.com
mourning glory
should I feel alone in my glory
I need but walk the train tracks
taking in the
rubbish
the
empty spray paint cans
the bones of natures last stock
too slow to keep pace
with the metallic mastodons
the danger excited aura
of teenage exploration
last years christmas tree
burnt red from summer
these unseen recesses exist along with my glory
unmediated
and unsung
but
more important than museums
for where art is headed
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