There is poetry in every moment

There is poetry in every movement

A tree on every leaf and a branch on every twig

When the forest is a thief

There is poetry in every moment

When each part of time meets and clashes

Like waves crashing and

Getting lost in the ocean

There is poetry in every sound

Even in an infant shrieking out

To distracted parents who

Watch TV as shrieks

Echo down the hall

There is poetry in every color

In the blood red of third world revolution

Spattering on the dark blue of

Wall Street resolution

Like

The allies

Storming

The final solution

There is poetry in every smell my friend, dare I say

Or compare thee to a rose?

There is poetry in everything

For all that is tangible longs to exist

As prose

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