Thursday, October 23, 2014



Feel the elixir
ooze on your tongue, down your throat.
Try to hold it there
by your strength of will
alone and don't think sad, mad
or other dark thoughts.
This magic will not
work then, will not grow your wings
for you and your air
will be like cement
slurry and damn it - I can't
get these thoughts to stay
on their own right lines.

(At least this ended rightly
slowing to full stop.)

‎April ‎28, ‎2014 10:33 PM

First appeared as a comment to a poem Irene wrote and posted on her blog Orange Is A Fruit

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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