Spoken
Whistle wisps uncurl and film the sudden cool
I have but one single direction
Argument lisps and listens with undertones of fin shape and leather
Unmade the wash
Drank the filament
And permitted the light to consume my undertongue
Shifts of collar light marked the shadow play and curled my tucked probiscus beneath glow worm gills
I have but one single curl
of eloquence left
2 comments:
This poem is teh sux.
unrealized potential. many drafts needed. much cutting. glow theme. visual interest. too much sps, fts
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