(Droplet) spume.

The word, defining, muzzles; the drawn lineOusts mistier peers and thrives, murderous,In establishments which imagined lines Can only haunt.  Sturdy as potatoes,Stones, without conscience, word and line endure,Given an inch.  Not that they’re gross (although Afterthought often would have them alterTo delicacy, to poise) but that theyShortchange me continuously:  whether More or other, they still dissatisfy.Unpoemed, unpictured, the

(Memnos I) – Alluvium

        I was vanished; A most egotistical subterfuge, but naught without its proper cost. Approaching my date of birth by last December, I suffered a massive plunge in my mental integrity, followed by some level of tragedy, anguish, and some sparse instances of recuperation. This is most common to me since my early childhood, yet,

Protected: A woman. (english poetry)

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

⌉|⌈ – Irrigation, friends.

        Leaned against the customary elm tree, some would take aim at nouvelle psychologies, others would echo life-bound lessons at the bottom of a plastic beer cup. If elation existed on summary, little else would be needed to describe the happiness blooming from friendship. I’d spent my few years of breath on fighting prejudice and

⌉|⌈ – Four Chestnut Kings

Four Chestnut Kings When I read poetry, it’s not customary to do it in one sitting, since verse can be overbearing at times, especially when the verse in question is condensed with a large amount of information or emotional overdraws. So, to break that cycle of lyricentric text, I will make a little break and

My Grandmothers Carnations

I know this is not a photo blog, but I make a ton of references to my grandmothers carnations in my poetry, especially in True-Ultra, so I thought I would show you why they are so inspiring to me. They have received no editing and come directly from my lousy phone, so the quality might