I took one of my own poems and opened up some gaps for you to fill in. Make free with this just as you might with any dadaist chaos. Be a poetic bomb thrower.
Hope Is _______________
The land don’t ___________.
if I am ______________.
It never grows _______________
so it heaps _______. ____________
on our __________
and our _______________
because we all __________
that sweat
is the ________
of __________ dreams.
Hope Is the Oil of Rusty Dreams
The land don’t care
if I’m tired
It never grows tired.
So it heaps high hopes
on our backs
and brows
because we all know
that sweat
is the oil of rusty dreams.
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You saw it, I know, but here is my acceptance of your invitation.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iExI5_2AqbE
Kevin
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Attention is the
rarest and purest form of generosity
Simone Weil
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The continued interaction between Kevin and Terry is something I envy and admire.