the spirit of the matter-of-fact speaks, and
the stray dogs of my poem
wither off into unkempt song not dressed
for the occasion, we are
called out for being rain, flower, sunknown
seed the song is tired
it will be forever before the spirit of the
matter-of-fact decides
we are called out for being snake, wood,
snowbound need the
song is tired it will be forever before
the spirit of the matter-
of-fact abides, and it will not rain till
time dries out & slithers
Brilliant.
Thanks š