Friday, October 7, 2011

Wild Things

By the side of the road
Or down in a drain
A cranny, a nook, a pavement crack
Up against a mildewed wall
Or poised against a cornice
Between flower beds
Or paved graves
And that one behind the door hinge
A chink in the roof
Old dusty rooms
A little earth and some damp
The worst possible places
That’s where the wild things grow
Straight from the muck and into our hearts.

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