i'm tired of songs of the dead.
i don't live in elegy
i want the past for the future
i want the different for its help,
not its difference.
i want to recover the spark,
not the ash.
tasty as they are,
i don't want to slave in the kitchen,
cooking up jams and preserves
find me out in the garden,
replanting disused seeds
and drinking in
that crisp green growth
made and remade
of each day's new rain and sun
find me there.
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