Poems, Personals, and Commentary

In the wilds of Truman Avenue
Grow rampant weeds
And many seeds
Of wild and untamed flowers

In quiet suburban streets
Some types of weeds
Push through the cracks
No strength they lack

We like to tame and formalize
But sometimes wildness is a prize
That we can learn to cultivate —
But then it isn’t wild

————

There was a Garden once
Where man and woman roamed
And wild things lived in harmony
With man and his sweet destiny

————

In the wilds of Truman Avenue
I’ll dig and hoe
While Heaven’s vision
Slowly grows

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