Play some doo-woop when I close,
earth angel a cappella into sixteen
candles overdose, looking for one
echo reverbing into soul complete.
Sweet sounds soar off subway tiles,
a white and grimy womb for rebirth
scrubbed by angelic harmonies neat,
little Frankie's tomb is not plumb yet.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
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I enjoyed these two most recent efforts of yours... I keep saying that the images are vivid for me, and it remains my first response to much of your work.... the colour, the way it works within and in between the words.
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winsome!
ReplyDeletehttp://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2015/02/hyde-park-poetry-palace-thursdy-poets.html
ReplyDeletecome on in, share a poem and read others. poets rally miss you a lot.