Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Poem, From Out of the Blue

The family who picked the berries in the field
Become the owners of the land.
The artists and poets who live out of the clear blue
Evict the landlords as a painful splinter from the skin.

The skin no longer thick but a veil barely separating
Us from all that is
From the slightest nuance we bring wisdom
To our circle of light
We radiate questions attached to their answers
From out of the blue.

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