Body of work
John Clare Stokes
One thing for certain
When I’m gone
If anyone dares
Or cares
I’ve amassed a
Body of work
Of absolute worthless
Proportions
Of homeless at intersections
Of bikers on back roads
Of college co ed’s crossing
Of Skinny ones behind poles
Of white face cows conversing
Of even road kills
Nothing much was ever missed
The ever observing lens
Taking it all in
A streaming daily account
Of our lives passing through.
The hydrangeas and the pioneers
Price Creek Cemetery
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