- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Spilled Ink
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I'm conjuring here; leave me alone. Chicken bones across my chest. Last reading was too real. A woman in Kansas hungry for a discount and ready for a win. I made my second potion there. This shit takes too long with herbs and all the words. Someone is getting what they want and a feather. A stained piece of oval pine loosened by spilled ink kicked over by a tiny owl's talon. Get out of here bum! Take your beans! Get real. When the train sped and cards flew, I screamed.
