Social Network






I am not older, I merely
grew tired of the appearance
of endless beauty

I work under the conceit
of sore knees,
wrinkled youth, and duty

You believe these are for others
none applies to you:
your hesitation certain doom

Come to me when truth
refuses your particular disability
while you are discovering

Death has no separate rooms,
only the inevitability now:
you ignore or later tell yourself you choose

©Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from Of Flesh Sculptures And Abandoned Love, 160 pages, 16.99

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<–Check this out: Poetry & How It Gets That Way updated!


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