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Click hereYou could hear the twing tang tines
Of high pressure wires strain and snap
A thousand miles above earth falling fast
So that even all the weightless air
Gave friction to every painful inch
Till fire sprang out of nothing at all
Even aged as age old gravity
Numb numbering our days together
a friend
a lover
a job.
Three murders on Monday
Nice and neat and cleanly cut
As easy peasey as pudding pie
I forgot in my role of servant
The help never aught speak their mind
Like the candlestick in the library
Everyone knows who’s who done it
The butler is as always to blame
All I had to do was let it
Let holding to holding on
Down and out and away
Tomorrow’s sun rises anew
I ride too rough in this high saddle
Calling the call of the storm crow
There will be blood in the water
And meaty fruit in threes enough
On this garbage I subsist
Killing without thought
Only to feast on whatever remains
With my own heart for flavor
Reckless relentless backdrop
Foreshadowing foreshortening
So much for me and me
What do I want to do with it
And old arguments never end
They wait as burning wood
On under beachy sands
For a careless runner’s foot
Tumble weeds were once rooted
Immaterial spun and cast off
Lost loops and loose knit bones
Before they all got carried away
Above all else, the one thing I most enjoy about reading your poetry is reading them aloud. They're like elegant tongue twisters making the reader focus on the words written and not what the reader's mind expects to be said.