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Click heresuch a klutz
I weave this quilt
of be or not to be
with gnawing guilt
of knowing me
from skin to guts
but wield my words
so clumsily
in sight of this
just a fool
I play my act
so unresolved
distasteful
drained of tact
improper tool
to do the job
but now involved
in humble praise
in sight of this
just my joke
a grinning face
unworthy of
what this evoke
of gold and grace
and blinded still
I kneel and wait
in sight of this
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,500 poems.
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