Always worried that
These stanzas and lines
Would never be elegant enough
Or eloquent
Enough
Playing with words as if
They are sand, building castles,
Heating them up and
Turning those same words
Into glass, which I can shatter
With a single scream.
Chasing Rexroth, Bukowski,
Friends I would have liked to have
But I don’t want to wait decades
Before people finally think
To blow dust off volumes;
Poems etched into electrons
Published upon a server,
Via PHP and
HTML.
All I want is
For these old-fashioned words
To live
Forever.
D.H. Lee
(via Swanksalot)