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No extra blanks between to document the last few takes -my blinking glassy eyes- hay fever or cold, or one more razed emotion- shall pass along the bend of space I'd spin around gasp at this finality |
I like that this poem (line by line) cannot be anticipated. In that way it twists: and it twists, keeping a live-action. Right there.... bottle that shit up. | Posted on 2016-05-23 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ] | |