Is it?

is it a poem or a story

or no rhyme

or reason

what can it be

without talk of the leave’s colors

in season

or love or madness

or all that is lost in surreal

discussion of objects

you see tossed

so well described in your

educated thrust of glamorous guts

you believe make you

more dedicated to soul

expression

than me

or the bum

that just peed on your doorstep