Thursday, May 1, 2008

forlorn morning glory

I issue forth from the gutter of the ages,
spilling out desperately from its sustaining sludge.
thick and nutritive, I drink of its mud,
while eyes that see strangely drink of me,
rising out from the grate of the cosmic drain,
glorious in my defiance of expectation,
forlorn in appearance and ragged of look;
immortal is my weedy persistence,
unmatched my vital pestlike essence,
and immovable my roots which here do hook

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