The castings of worms
upon damp earth come alive
with old flesh and bones.
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So much I’d ask about these terse words: but that’s the way with poetry . . .
True enough. I hadn’t intended any moldering connotations that cloud rejuvenation for old men.
Even though I understand that we are all fodder eventually, that makes me feel quite squirmy.
I didn’t want use ‘rejuvenation’ for the last line, but there would have been less confusion if I did. Sorry about that, a case of tunnel vision.
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