Monday, April 04, 2016

these poets ...

these poets ...

these poets
spin words into
silky spirals of gossamer
that snatch me out of midair
and entangle my thoughts
catch me completely off-guard
and awaken an unexpected sensation
or a long-absent emotion
with some happy-sad combo
of consonants and vowels
and a sprinkling of punctuation
that startles the shit
out of me
when i realise
other than myself
knows i'm just a big ol' bluebottle fly
buzzing along on a summer breeze
from one manure pile
of human decay
in search of another
heap of damnation
and getting caught up
along the way
in such a sticky web
of eternal salvation




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