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My Poetry

The Hustlers of Love

Written on 1/23/18.

Isaac Hayes in the cold white everything.

We’re all connected and we’re all doing.

And we’re all we, these whirling dervishes

serving experience across the earth,

dusty and dry, moist and mushy, enlivening.

We hustle, sure, and we do so with rays,

light and sound and quake across spectra.

Enter and entity, equity and equivocation,

the run and the roll through to the next

while people smile and laugh like mirrors.

Each given moment of the knowable flow

a pendulum’s swung memorized position.

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