i want to address the absurdity
of a measurable pleasure
the length of your tongue
against the width of time
and what we use to cover it
when we're not active
in a winter worn room
stained mugs on dusty book jackets
follow the parade of mire
murk and muddle through literature
manuscripts a friend sent
in a big brown envelope
before a late birthday wish
to an artist in Manhattan
1 comment:
man, do I ever love reading your poetry.
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