thrice denied yesterday
three times more today
what is it that i really hope to find
and, by finding, hope to realize?
i don't know i really don't
yet the spydawoman insisted i do
i think you know
(she said)
read between those lines,
dammit.
i have - and they were my words
my lines - i wrote them
but i still don't know
i really don't
tomorrow
i'm turning my back on
denials in triplicate
taking a breather from
sussing out the nos
maybe when i've exhausted the towering haystacks of nos
i would find a single tiny shiny yes
my holy grail
1 comment:
if anyone in the future attempts to decipher your poetry -you'd be like james joyce.
p/s: the holy grail is reputed not to be a chalice but a woman - the descendent of jesus, and in france heh. in the da vinci code.
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