Bits of stone cold broken glass
lying like forget me nots
where once grew
'leaves of grass'
An ocean of mediocrity
pulses with the profane
as if vulgarity were
the singular birth right of pain
well dressed blank pages
adorned in slick jackets
photographs of poets
with smiles like footnotes
distressed and in brackets
Patti, Diane, Sylvia and Anne...
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
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