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d on us and our children.</p><p id="ff98">when I’m old I sit in the bare nest and use a blender to blend all the meals into an arabesque cream; the crash of the blades are so quaking they silence regret</p><p id="debb">and the daydreams I dreamed have all happened, and none were necessary for happiness, which was woven from inside: my gizzard, or maybe my splean, but it certainly couldn’t have come from anywhere else.</p><p id="e7f8"><i>©<a href="undefined">Daniel Barry</a></i>, 2022</p><div id="29a9" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/hidden-elements-7ebe1fe505cc"> <div> <div> <h2>Hidden Elements</h2> <div><h3>Mystical poetry</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div>

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When I’m Old

Poetry

Photo by Rochelle Lee on Unsplash

when I’m old, death be blessed, I’m laughing, laughing exponentially. I teach Love’s ancient fire to children in India, or anywhere, stories streaming freely, myself dancing from the table’s dangling spine.

a woman, loving and ordinary, in stained jeans knows who I am, and I think she’s my wife, and I know like a cave painter she co-built a nest, refuge to heal the wounds inflicted by the world on us and our children.

when I’m old I sit in the bare nest and use a blender to blend all the meals into an arabesque cream; the crash of the blades are so quaking they silence regret

and the daydreams I dreamed have all happened, and none were necessary for happiness, which was woven from inside: my gizzard, or maybe my splean, but it certainly couldn’t have come from anywhere else.

©Daniel Barry, 2022

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