Tag Archives: writing

the nine-hundredth dilemma to do with wordsmithery

Maybe a poet thrives in alien mayhem, depending on the definition of Poet. And who knows that definitive definitions are not symptomatic of chronic disconnect which itself should not be too problematic though it bears little resemblance to the novel … Continue reading

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never quitting but scouring

All this dross draws from losing sea access. In those days a sensuality, raw, shapely like a vase for a chosen rose seeped through each moment; whether the tulips from the gypsy vendors by the pavement for a celebratory day … Continue reading

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improper usage

You know U and I are right next to each other. Had a question been posed about the positions of U and I, I’d likely floundered for a bit in thoughtful remembrance, though a day does not pass that I … Continue reading

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senseless ramble to keep from losing my marbles

Sparrow don’t take too kindly to taking orders. Neither does the agitation-addled junco. Snow doesn’t seem to bother the sassy bastards. Maybe in their dimension they are wearing coats. What I do know: watching juncos beats feeding goats, although knowledgeable … Continue reading

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at last a silent morning reflection

Never heard of anyone ever asking an actual body of water about how it may happen to feel as a stream or a river forced to exist on a frothy spectrum. Maybe the rush, rush, rush, and the constant talk … Continue reading

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Poor Poet’s Tribulation

Thirst for the rhythmic regimen stream sends ten thousand desperation alarms insisting an escape hatch must be found. Grab something, anything; the alien spiders; return to subterranean tentacles; grab one, dive in; fuck the foes. Must it come to wearing … Continue reading

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continues and continues

Some folks bristle hearing God damn. But in the world of Poetry, words can be real fucking pushy without trying or meaning so, knowing no other word will do. And on the realization that the fantastic acrobats are withering and … Continue reading

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