Things

Things are often repetitions, 
happy encounters 
Star treatment. 
Sometimes roses rising from the ashes, 
larger than life moments, 
the poet's endless creative moments. 
The child's curiosity about the lives inside of me, 
it's the same feature was also shown my father. 

Loneliness in the midst of spring from 
words as the spring-flooded creek. 
I will let the word go, they 
scream spring in purgatory. 
The ram, clearing frenzy, towards spring, willow trees, thickets. 

I'm not an old master, but 
brave new words workmen. 
I have a lousy witness the natural 
centuries after the destruction. 
What am I doing ozone disappears 
space on the altar? 
Nothing, I move just nervously 
stuff box to another. 
Where can I give up, and what not?