More cheerleading wearing fortunately not a skirt

It's been a thing to say, we're born alone we die alone,
rather than wild berries are pending of some sort.
This sentence is both descriptive and prescriptive,
in that one thing is true and the other thing
I want to be true, and since this is me talking
I get my way. This hegemony is why I write poetry,
for if I want the possibility of pie to enter
how we speak of life, I do that with the wild berries
baked inside of some sort and look outside at the sun
being the brightest student in the class and tell the poem
to repeat my heart to the world. The world listens
though not necessarily to the wild berry pie dream
of my heart, I accept this and Republicans and people
shooting strangers as best I can, attitudes
are as expansive as some pants are
that will go up and down a few sizes
before they give up, before they throw in the towel
of their seams and zippers, I am not pants
not yet doing that. I want the wild berries
of some sort in pie or a basket on a table
as wide as the world listening to what I don't know
the world is listening to, though since it's ears
are a little bit my ears, I know a bit
of what the world is listening to, drink locally
fall down globally is a thing I've heard people say
in this poem, also flesh is a dress
elation wears could be words on a page
you're reading, if you seem to have heard that
as recently as just now.
Bob Hicok


Bob Hicok

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