Sunday, July 11, 2021

1 2 3 Poetry

 

there,

were cookies

to be eaten.


i

invented a

form of poetry.


one,

then two,

at last, three.


marriage,

begin reworking

constantly surprise eyes.


open

flavor of

guttural, responsive time.


ending,

upon our digestion,

wakefully freeforming art.




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