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Who doesn't gather knows

Who doesn’t gather knows



I’ve been hit by luck that I no longer have hope.

I don't plan a vacation knowing where the wildest paths lead.

I don't even believe in a lack of faith – at least I have the courage,

and I'm not looking for arguments, because I avoid dead ends.

Though I welcome emptiness in all its forms.


Thoughts pass through me like birds through our birch –

its leaves turn gold as they leave, while Indian chimes turn copper, becoming.

I like rust – its patience for modernity,

and can no longer carry myself like a procession of Corpus Christi or a love parade,

because we only parade with what we do not have.


©Szweda

Castlerock 2017

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