Poem Hunter
Creator Of Mirages
GC (fall '72 / live on on the alfonsina storni side of florida)

Creator Of Mirages

Poem By gregory collins

The sky turns blue and scratches my back.
I am one of the many children in the rain
they will never understand,
and i got no need to explain the rich man.
We all see the sun going down with chances to be made.
We all see a new world until dawn,
and then i forget to go home again
and stay this way forever.

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