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Make yourself smaller Small enough to balance on a branchThe whole windblown wisp of your bodyBuoyant on the breezeYour needlepoint eye only holdingA thimble of lightYour little paunch packed with seedsPecked from plastic perchesHung by giants Smaller stillYour body three-seeds-longAnother on your backDropped by dragons from their poplar pillarYour size is no measure of your
Runner The most impossible stepIs step oneFollowed closely by two and threeAnd whichever steps pound earthAt the two-thirds markOr before your round the final bend In between you are sailingBreeze-cooled cheeksWet with winningPaper cups drained and crumpledThe pursuit of the woman just aheadUntil you surge and she is is beside, BehindForgotten There are instants you
Hustle (A found poem culled from this sales page for The Hustle Manifesto – https://content.hustleandgrind.co/hustle-manifesto) You want to be your own boss but don’t I’ve been in your shoes Rolling and feeling stuck I wanted to create something I could call Control Pour my heart and soul into the Ground I was willing to hustle