Sunday, June 15, 2014

THORNY DIALECTIC

Sunday morning sauntering 
together past—pinkwhite
rosebush after 

pinkwhite rosebush—my romantic side kept leaping 
and tugging hard against 

my own commonsense intuition—
to reach 
and pluck the finest blossom

and pin the specimen
fast under your headband—
in order to somehow 

further advance—this curious cumulative notion 
I have of how beauty works.

Luckily—before acting
I thought a bit better
of the audacity! and 

the fruitlessness 
of presuming
to tamp down such a wild crown

as loveliness—by snipping 
and sticking it way
out of context.

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