Page 51
By Jack Joseph Smith
Right in the middle
stumbling through
the grass that is corn
and the flowers that
have wheat, shucked into
two different ways to walk.
Quiet; even if I didn't know
Intent, the way you reach out
Stretch your arm so far as to
rob the place, you rested your
fingers, after the she sheets
in the sail, before and after
the love of, and the beging
to come back, and when it went
to hell, didn't we show the rest,
that you have got to turn around
and not come back