Best Poem of R. Absalom Catarata

Birthday Poem
wrinkles were not worn once in this same day
when mind was yet at fall and seed was dormant
womb was a waiting church innocent and silent
there sow the good sex let code be given
death was dead yet fat and easy as he lied
on the wet streets of october

how shall you reckon but wait
by beat of heart . . .
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By Our Will There Springs
by our will
there springs
our fatigue-
able days
an ever work-
man's limb
lays dead
half-spent life
of industry
what's left
by our will
we feel
down midnight's moon
and howl-
of our will
by the day
and no one but . . .
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