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Thursday, April 5, 2012


Poems seek a home
for reason.
When the bent mind has nowhere to go,
it begs a soliloquy.

Words, peripheral cacophany, hatched voices,
flaccid sentiments
I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes, he says.
You’ve never seen someone this sad, says she.

There's no inspiration formulae
The moon is paper boating at sea.
A silent annoyance.
Life forges a fist, servant to seasons.