Tag Archives: poem

looking for the old days

I miss not writing about me, becoming a leaf on a lark and being okay not knowing why the lark appeared and letting it stay for it need not be a bird. And if a period lands where it lands, … Continue reading

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haven’t yet a clue what they are

that they wear countenances cute or that they wear monstrous masks is irrelevant to this theme; and saying the name will betray an addiction to slavery and not the kind found in sexy fantasies but the opposite of that better … Continue reading

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how to piss off a poet

I never cared to get too technical although a curvaceous glossary can exude a gluey magnetism; toes do get wet and fingers are made sticky. So my train of thought – surprise, surprise – has encountered another derailment. Again I … Continue reading

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maybe playing with seasons will fix this frazzled fuse

Dear birds, your presence has been a colorful, harmonious pleasure. Sorry some of your kin became cat toys. If it helps, we both envy your freedom. We cannot flutter towards the heavens or make whoopee a hundred times per day. … Continue reading

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talk about frazzled fuses

it has come to the point that fantasy solutions cannot advance victory and as is brutally clear, munitions have dwindled to a few firecrackers; oh yes there is that big box of bugles but since the bugle instructor has quit … Continue reading

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Friday Morning Less-Free-Write

Believe it or not I do not want to write about you as though I am obliged to worship you and set all my toys aside and burn all my trivial dreams for the sake of fixing ear and eye … Continue reading

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attack of the inner critic

Then the great Ahem comes acting like insomnia had almost grown weary of being a pillow pest or was yanked from a light, chick-watching sit by a frothy fountain gushing near the center of a far-away Bucharest. Then I says … Continue reading

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