John Keats Has Everything on Me

So far as bright stars go

Shining through the window

Onto her sultry bossom

As she heaves in sleep

While I look outside the window 

And think of Van Gogh
The virgin  land

Opening herself to me

To Keats

To others

And we all go our way

Take what we think we need

What we think we’ll one day understand 
Factories  become cubicles

Pens are keyboards

No matter what

No matter when

John Keats I’ll never be

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