Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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READING SARTRE

I float in the freedom of the rain
conscious and disengaged, accept
the gifts of perfumed breeze, that
comb green leaves, beneath Venus
the evening star, I whistle with all
birds I hear, to learn each tuneful song
full modulated syncopate, to converse
without a costly cellular, abstract
Midas, Phrygian king of forest glen
I am, hum of golden bees, exit in a mist
leaving honey hanging in the trees
trails of ants, behind my back, stock
their hidden pantry’s lack, without
a credit card exist, yielding to the words
that come, I harp, a lonely Nordic bard.




Jan G. Otterstrom F. 4/21/2012