Friday, April 11, 2008

Spurs


Spurs, those jagged implements
Of accomplishment,
Intruding upon flesh
To bleed one's pay's worth.
Must spurs bleed?
Can't spurs be as what flowers
Do to a lady wooed,
The nectar sipped...
Do without the violence,
Mostly on feverish minds,
And labor for everyday
In a garden of flowers.

No comments: