i feel you, smell, tell, and say.
>> water from heaven is rain --
the wind from yesterday
casper -- ghost.
these ele-ghost things
grossing my mind, all
to stay, to say good night, little mike;
white my fright.
25 Jul 17
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changes made: expanded and contracted some phrases to actually make a more concrete poem.
people don't get this. they want to talk about their drunk collisions and longing in their own work, and they don't even think deep enough to wonder where their self ends and where the one they're bumping into begins.
'coordination' is juxtaposition, is 'collision'. this piece tries to sort out what's fantasy and what's real between myself and the reader.
sorry not concrete
Yours pedantic today
yah, squeek is as good as a critique. thanks.
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