Being poetic can be accidental However, Being a poet is no accident Advertisements
The streets at night shimmer under the emerging, movement of streetlights. It’s the tree limbs that cause their action. Above them, wires stretch into an evolution of light and dark. Of course, that’s where we kiss. Where else? And it’s a damn good smooch….
Feel free to make representations out of your own fiction. Be careful when you make representations of someone else’s truth.
A reader dips a hand Into swift water Waiting in initial silence To be taken by the current An author swims Without life preserver Arms….splashing Yelling towards the shoreline
Et Tu has been published.
With full knowledge of its weight, made heavy By its gilded frame, Requiring strong wire Thick nails, to secure it In place—level—solid Upon a wall of plaster Chipped, repainted in layers Colors upon colors thick. We used our steady eye A skill, a tool,…
Little slim acne face You know you’ve been jabbed at Your laugh the littlest A small-like snicker Bedrooms are for hiding No need to involve yourself In overtime with the idiots…just Dig into that last Halloween candy bag Your grandmother bought you For Christmas…
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