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Dirt (a poem)

Updated on July 11, 2013

Dirt

I think I'll make

A novel thing

I'll make it after me,

Design it with a difference

And for eternity.


Not that I have need of it

Or cannot do without

Perhaps to give the best of them

A thing to figure out.


Or fiddle with fecundity--

Creating on and on.

I mean to make them think they're meant--

The only sine qua non.


How desperately they'll fight the fight

For bread and love and fame.

And I the while will delight

To watch the endless game.


© Joseph Pedulla, Saturday, April 27, 2013

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