Writer’s Grief

A seething thought In the absence of an audience to clinically dissect A body of work or acclaim the light Seen through a gaping pupil Words will sometimes be, a little hard on the tongue And a little puzzling for grey-white knots Yet this scenic drive through the traffic Needs a clutch and the first…

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Nucleosynthesis

I’m a little confused, still wondering which constellation Collapsed in a mass suicide to give way to an orgasm At least one feels like that – and the inverse appears to be true too Like when my wife quakes through her fault lines And she tells me, she has never had an orgasm till our…

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