- Non-Erotic Poetry
- No lucky digit, no Kerouac
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Click hereShe is not the apple,
and she is not the stem.
She is the dashed umber curl of leaf
managed to grow up out of the core,
clutching at it. Grotesque strand.
Crumpled thumb
spit out for a hitchhike.
- COMMENTS
PandoraGlittersover 11 years agoHow did I miss this? Love spit out for a hitchhike. I don't so much like the uneasy transition between lines 3 and 4 but I see why you did that. Reading more of your work now.
Anonymousalmost 15 years agoYer mind, Blue, is illuminated. I lost myself in those lines a reflective while. From dirt grows the sweetest rose. I love you(I think someone slipped me an e)MANCELT.
lorencinoover 15 years ago<br>In a culture gone made with bigger and better, this expression of dogged indifference to the star-system is to be hailed and celebrated.
