There is no such Disgrace.
I do not live inside or choose to
put my dwelling things
away there.
There is Here to one else,
while I cannot touch it with a tip
of glance-on accident
these matters made solid.
Their way does not cross
my own,
or break through my gait.
Thier way becomes unknown
with wind and soft feet.
There is gasping, a vacuous horror
at the senseless flexing to hold nothing,
constricting itself, There,
the worst that would be too atrophied
to rest here.
I do not dwell in Misery.
I do not consider
my self
part of
Disgrace.
Painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, (1870) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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If you have a minute, I’d really appreciate it if you took a look at Emily’s Virtual Rocket. This is a serious newsblog which has been taken from e-newspapers and e-magazines from around the world, with an emphasis on transgender issues. Also, with his election, I look for articles which critique Donald Trump.
ReplyDeleteI hope you enjoy this. Please paste the following:
Emilysvirtualrocket.blogspot.com
If you like it, please consider putting it among your favorite blogs. I would greatly appreciate it.
Sincerely,
Emily