I will place the audio for the december 2017 poem in the winter solstice, december 21st, enjoy the october while. the november and december are below in text.
I don't know what is wrong with collard green's
but they are not like they use'd to be
I remember smelling a valley
farther than any can see
I remember chewing the rubbing's
from a loving hand, to a green
Where are those collard green's?
Silly me... where are the folk who know collard green's?
None around seem to know, what green's be
the smell, down from roof gardin's
the smiling face's from each park, to each subway
remembering, loving hand's, to green's
Where are they who know green's?
Silly me...walking on concrete
The collard green's, or those who know them
can't live on the cold street
They all flew to a country, where life is free
I hear some speak to maturity
why am I not convince?
do I have access to a wise diary
am I living behind a fence
nothing literal or from prison is about me
sole support from my sense
kin to all common water's
born from being many schnee
each winter, the former liquid chime, Never Again!
On the craterous surface, will we be sow
Under only the sky, above all other life, is our remaining time
... then the sun rise, and maturity prove elusive again
... I hear few speak to possibility
why do most shun if sense
do they have no craft they fee
are they surround from total absence?
nothing craftal or annihil they don't see
all support from their mince
kin to all warstarter's
born from inherent malflee
each winter, the sanguine rhyme, Always Again!
In the cavernous channels, will we be sow
Under only the hide, between all other life, is our remaining time
... then the lids rise, and possibility prove all coming again
...Can a possible be immature
Is immaturity a craft from some possible
to reject all other possible
Do the questions prove sense?
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