[Catches] a poem

The Germ cell to all chance
is the recklessness of compulsive
chance, of incomprehensible rants,
Infants grabbing for anything to place
into their hands demand chance;
it elicits from the flow
of this condition rendition &
vision


The dream broken free from it
the mind into a strange
world its innocence has never
known or adapted to
refuse caution,
option of the fearing searing
their days as strays on empty
streets, without a meal to greet



Dontrell Lovet't
from, [The Paper Womb II]