There's always something new to say.

With each day,
write a poem:
there's always something new to say.

The old man in his
rubbery skin
and the child
blooming,

the aye-aye
with his fingers thin
and the proboscis monkey's
nose;

the black man
with his story thin
because his richness
he does not know.

The white man
with his heart of gold,
the Oriental
with his smile;
the gentleman
with his walking stick
and flâneur sins beguiled.

The sunflower with its
droopy head:
the yellow of its mouth;
it catches sunbeams,
communes with light;
faces the south.

The kittens in their basket.
The laundry in the corner.
The old folks sitting, twitching.
The order of disorder:

repeats itself like an old joke
that always somehow rings true.
There's always something new to say, see?
Paint it red, yellow, blue.