190–Frolic

these poems ride me like a lover
planning a poetry party for a poet
in April brings me undelicately into
the arms of many poets i see their
faces, read their lines swim in the
deep waters laugh and splash
why is it that so often i forget
this paradise of peers well
if not peers at least we’re all in the
some ship of
dedicating our lives to this
wrangled written word the
kind that dances as if there
were no other way to live
that picks up sorry asses
like mine and demands this frolic
in the hay of, ” you got to love this living”
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