There is no money in poetry, but then there is no poetry in money, either. Robert Graves
Home
Walk the Turtle
I am a soft man. Casual by choice, Easy on the heart beat, Slow and lulling my voice, No crisis ever comes to me, I know not how to rush, There may be demands made upon me, But I’ll not make it much.
The world is wide with wonder, My heart is hot with thunder, That rolls up tightly right to my head. I’ve got so much life to pursue, But still I’m thinking of you, And maybe this is true right to I’m dead.
