Every day win


would we ever  

choose death

for the sake of pain-the color of a blood red sunset

when Grandfather moon arises

each night

tracing patterns of worlds

across his belly

underneath which small children


marbles under a street light

…don’t we know…

no matter what happens in all the games we hope to win…

each of us has already won 

a day full of breaths,

lungs rejoicing in the sun

and a moon who paints himself

the color of street lit marbles

so he can play 

with small children at bed time?

I’d say…

 we get to put whole worlds in our pockets

if we want to…

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