Page 107
By Jack Joseph Smith
Fear
A
Fear does not make me love likeness of you
But fear does make me hate your likeness
and your will
E
This scornd second we take task as complete
Grabbing our will and twisting the dark flower
Joy with the damned lasting is all that
Not
is cared for, struggled about almost in
a wild womb to strike out
outside of
to find a clear way to doom
I did not see anything
In one door and out the other
And what is left over
No one ever leaves
The inconsequetal act of giving
The instrument of fear