National Poetry Month is now in the books. You probably didn't even celebrate. That's okay: Take a minute now to bask in the laconic rhythmic brilliance of this six-year-old kid who wrote some beautiful zen shit that you can't even fathom penning.
Poetry from a first grader:
We did the soft wind.
We danst slowly. We swrld aroned.
We danst soft.
We lisin to the mozik.
We danst to the mozik.
We made personal space.
That's some first-order Basho/Omar Khayyam business there. What the fuck have you done with your life?