One more.

one more poem before the sun runs off
the plants and I will hide while the night invites her cover upon us.
unwanted shade. we all cast shadows, but some erect towers, while others dig out caves.
who’s hiding? who’s arriving? show me a man who doesn’t crave.

i’ll show you sorrow, longing for days.
sit beneath the power lines and ponder
lines drawn on a map, for power.
lines divide and lines connect.
is it a gift to have choice?

well, an ant doesn’t write poems but
will an ant ever doubt or confess?
will it shamefully promote or boast?
i’m a human so i own pity but it has cast me into debt.

my home is on the streets and in the woods.
my self-image and worth thus projects.
is it brave to try hard if the goal is pleasing others? probably so.

it sounds terrible to die in a ditch aching for want of medicines and shelter.
then again, freedom. what is it and do i have it?

one more.