Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Wild Growing II

What a wild mutualistic city
Mushrooms grow out and up
As do trees and lawns, buildings and songs
While the click and the clank
Of wheels turn on.

No wonder people pack
     to get on down the road.
They always feel, think, and see, and hear
The city crying help me
        And to serve.
I can taste our thoughts too busy to be real.
Our lives too busy to lift burdens spaceward.
Our minds too busy to see ourselves.
And our hands too busy to really help even ourself
Until we are not busy, then we're too much like a turtle
To really get down the road but with help of a kind friend
Willing to buy you a drink
Wherein we recollect, remember, and forget what we sought
       the business of living, for.


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