if
i could catch the spirit
in
a bottle and put it on the shelf
december
wouldn't be
as
dark and gray
as
it started out to be
these
green walls might lift you
up
above the fray
where
the newspapers fade to yellow
the
truth leaving fast
there's no need to find excuses
the
leaves are close to compost
where
the death knell brings new life
you
said there's not much difference
a
debate is never a debate
the
sky is like a beginning before the shouting
those
are not wet streets
but
mirages
like
the highway calling out
close
your eyes for a thousand crows
your
voice in a bottle
---
e b bortz
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