Know good knews from cabin fever. A poem by Max O’Brien

(kno moor for walls)

Know More is hear to bog us down in
mired swampland
But rather beet peet into brics and mayke fyre fodder
No that the meer mist opportunity
now nocks aghaine
This tyme with a wite klenched kneer
nuckled
Rap wrap
Rapping urgency on the knewly
varnished woulden paneling,
stir crazy Behind your window PAIN
Now banish forever morning’s
Mourning
And let a fresh rain’s reign rein in the
last of our stir crazy

(know mor fore walls)

With more than any lost missed that
blows in off the see after a storm
Will wrip free any vine like Cancer,
Virus heavy coat off weary shoulder
And toss it to the breeze,
Dry clean all the pretty flowers
And line them in a row
Standing to attention
Like perfect little soldiers
A breathtaking view for Later
When U and all are better
And ready to see it

(No more four walls)

For PO’B