tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-140978952024-03-23T14:43:06.793-04:00A Ton of Bricks<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br><br>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.comBlogger611125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-22266410627040113332021-11-29T12:05:00.003-05:002021-11-29T12:05:47.858-05:00Bad Poetry Monday<div style="text-align: left;"> <b>Reduction</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">I want to boil it down</div><div style="text-align: left;">Get to the heart of the matter</div><div style="text-align: left;">Distill the flavors</div><div style="text-align: left;">and</div><div style="text-align: left;">Accept the essence of what is</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Only all that's there is</div><div style="text-align: left;">Fear and doubt of</div><div style="text-align: left;">Growth and spread</div><div style="text-align: left;">What if this is all there is</div><div style="text-align: left;">Until all there is </div><div style="text-align: left;">Is gone?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Wings clipped</div><div style="text-align: left;">Horizons narrowed</div><div style="text-align: left;">Marrow poisoned</div><div style="text-align: left;">One foot in front of the other</div><div style="text-align: left;">One foot from the grave?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Heads you win</div><div style="text-align: left;">Tails I lose</div><div style="text-align: left;">Too many metaphors because</div><div style="text-align: left;">Avoidance is key</div><div style="text-align: left;">How else to get things done?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-76181546134307670202021-10-11T13:14:00.003-04:002021-10-11T13:14:56.134-04:00Bad Poetry Monday<p> <b><i>Symbolless</i></b></p><p>by [REDACTED]</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">There are three cables</div><div style="text-align: left;">No, four</div><div style="text-align: left;">That appear intertwined</div><div style="text-align: left;">but aren't</div><div style="text-align: left;">Each one runs under or above the others</div><div style="text-align: left;">There are no knots</div><div style="text-align: left;">Signals and/or power </div><div style="text-align: left;">are what pass through them</div><div style="text-align: left;">And they make no noise of their own</div><div style="text-align: left;">but somehow they can tell the </div><div style="text-align: left;">collection of parts connected to one end</div><div style="text-align: left;">of themselves</div><div style="text-align: left;">to play music</div><div style="text-align: left;">or voices</div><div style="text-align: left;">to show me a pixelated image</div><div style="text-align: left;">of my dog as he looked last year</div><div style="text-align: left;">All plastic and metal</div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing more</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-85562709087692401352021-10-06T12:34:00.003-04:002021-10-06T12:34:44.804-04:00Bad Poetry Wednesday<p> <b><i>MUG</i></b></p><p>by [REDACTED]</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">When light seeps down <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And noiselessness boils up</div><div style="text-align: left;">You find yourself staring softly at</div><div style="text-align: left;">The wonders of the world.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All seven ancient wonders </div><div style="text-align: left;">And each one falls quicker than the last</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oops. </div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-69873495278197525652021-03-23T09:52:00.003-04:002021-03-23T09:52:16.604-04:00March 23<p>I guess I'm going to use this old space that no one reads as a way to record my unedited thoughts. So here goes. </p><p>On March 5, 2021 I was officially diagnosed with stage 3/4 indolent B-cell lymphoma, which is a type of cancer of the lymphatic system. It still sends my mind reeling to talk about myself, my own body, and cancer in the same sentence. Cancer, of course, is so quotidian and unremarkable that it barely bears mention. You hear people saying "my aunt had cancer, my grandma, my dad, my cousin, my friend" and on and on. Everyone has at least known someone with cancer. It's stultifyingly normal. But so then apply the word to yourself and everything changes. What's normal becomes a cruel betrayal. My body has betrayed me at a fundamental level, and now I know it. My lymphatic system, which is supposed to protect me, has turned on me and become the enemy. But even then, framing this cancer as my enemy, as something foreign or alien growing inside of me, isn't right. It is my body. It has my DNA, albeit mutated. Lymphoma isn't the xenomorph that will burst through my stomach and devour me whole from the inside. No, it's just simply me run amok. There's still nothing here but me, my own body. Only now, in an irrevocable way, it has turned chronically against me. A betrayal so deep that there's no bottom to it because it's just me all the way down. </p><p>There's no way to know how long this cancer has been inside my body, growing. They, the oncologists and doctors and experts, call it a slow growing cancer. This implies a fast-growing kind, and yes that's true, it's real and thank god I don't have that. But how slow growing? Was it with me when my daughter was born? What about my son? Was it there, slowly getting bigger when I got married over 20 years ago? It's dizzying to think about how things are exactly the same as before and also completely different. Was I already betrayed before I knew my children? Or perhaps "slow-growing" is a relative term? Perhaps it's recent, or at least recent-ish. It feels like it must be. It feels like a physical extension of the past year, a metaphor for disease growth and spread that takes over our lives. It is disease growth and spread that is now taking over my life. No metaphor needed. </p><p>And it all feels so unfair. I'm sure all who live to see such times feel the same. I'm in the prime of my life, or should be. I'm happy in my marriage. I'm happy as a father. I'm successful enough at my job to provide my family with security, a home, luxuries that neither of us, my wife or I, had as kids. My life was, for lack of a better word, good. I drank with friends. I traveled for work and pleasure. I met so many people. Things felt, if not unlimited, than at least bountiful. And now it feels as if my life is measured out in coffee spoons. Just a little bit at a time. From now until my next appointment. From then until my next treatment. And on and on until it ends. And there's the crux of what is so unfair. The end is suddenly in sight. The doctors think it's still a long ways off, and they're probably right. I could be in remission for decades. But but but. This will probably be what kills me. If not, it will still be there when I die. The only way to rid the world of my lymphoma is to rid the world of me, a thing that seems so much less abstract than it used to. I am not ready yet. Probably I will never be. I'm not even really ready to look at it yet, so I am thankful for the coffee spoons to keep me here in the imminent present. The hole that fills my life a decade hence is too much abyss for me right now. It was so solid, so secure, so much to be looked forward to until March 5, 2021. Now it feels like pit I'm walking toward, and I just want to keep my eyes on the ground one step in front of me so that I don't have to look at it. Ignorance certainly isn't bliss, but it seems better than the alternative. </p><p><br /></p>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-80174806307010863192021-03-23T09:20:00.003-04:002021-03-23T09:20:33.898-04:00Bad Poetry Tuesday<p> <b>The Ingénue</b></p><p><i>by [REDACTED]</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><div style="text-align: left;">Pleased to meet you</div><div style="text-align: left;">This is a fine day, don't you think?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I've been here for years</div><div style="text-align: left;">Waiting for my time in the sun</div><div style="text-align: left;">Waiting for you to see me</div><div style="text-align: left;">Am I old enough now?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Hope you guessed my name. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Have I gripped you fully?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Here, I hold your liver in the palm of my hand</div><div style="text-align: left;">I won't give it back.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My other hand is wrapped around your neck.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I won't let go.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Not until you are ready to let go.</div><div style="text-align: left;">What's troubling you is the nature of my game?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-76495307305926455262021-01-22T08:37:00.000-05:002021-01-22T08:37:07.604-05:00Bad Poetry Friday<p> <b>Interstices</b></p><p><i>by [REDACTED]</i></p><div style="text-align: left;">Life is in the gaps, they say</div><div style="text-align: left;">And what do I know that can contradict?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Each little pause a world unto itself, they say</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I must nod along</div><div style="text-align: left;">Listen now for the words he doesn't say, they say</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I can only hear the ones he does</div><div style="text-align: left;">The earth is always full of holes like these, they say</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I suppose my job must be to fill one in.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's nothing personal, they say</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I heard the dirt rain down and saw their faces</div><div style="text-align: left;">Paper-white masks of evil.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-34890149404574634162020-12-21T11:43:00.003-05:002020-12-21T11:43:50.195-05:00Bad Poetry Monday<p> <b>Insulation</b></p><p><i>by Redacted</i></p><div style="text-align: left;">My home is warm and dry</div><div style="text-align: left;">The elements are all controlled by us</div><div style="text-align: left;">Air in the ducts</div><div style="text-align: left;">Water in the pipes</div><div style="text-align: left;">Fire in the flicker of the candle</div><div style="text-align: left;">And Earth stacked on earth to protect me from the dark</div><div style="text-align: left;">I want to tell you what I think about </div><div style="text-align: left;">When I eat my food alone</div><div style="text-align: left;">I want to tell them why I'm here</div><div style="text-align: left;">And why I always save my bones for dogs</div><div style="text-align: left;">That died a long long time ago.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's habit</div><div style="text-align: left;">And it protects me from that other element</div><div style="text-align: left;">That I fear most.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Time. </div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-63738153477052158932020-09-29T10:14:00.001-04:002020-09-29T10:14:27.683-04:00Bad Poetry Tuesday<p> <b>Before it was Cool</b></p><p><i>by [REDACTED]</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><div style="text-align: left;">I used to know a place</div><div style="text-align: left;">We called it The Moon</div><div style="text-align: left;">And only we few</div><div style="text-align: left;">We band of others</div><div style="text-align: left;">Outsiders and dogs</div><div style="text-align: left;">Only we</div><div style="text-align: left;">Knew where to find it</div><div style="text-align: left;">But we have all grown old</div><div style="text-align: left;">Kids wear the bottoms of their trousers rolled</div><div style="text-align: left;">And only we few</div><div style="text-align: left;">We confederacy of ancients</div><div style="text-align: left;">Remember the Moon and what it meant</div><div style="text-align: left;">What it showed us all</div><div style="text-align: left;">Waning crescent</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-75669414629679867932020-09-24T09:27:00.002-04:002020-09-24T09:27:32.104-04:00Bad Poetry Thursday<p> <b>Enigma</b></p><p><i>by [REDACTED]</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p>I am a pile of ivy</p><p>pulled from the ground</p><p>and waiting to be bagged, taken, shredded</p><p>My tendrils used to firmly grasp the earth</p><p>I've come untethered from my roots</p><div style="text-align: left;">Home is where the heart is</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-5438596278717656042020-08-19T09:08:00.006-04:002020-08-19T09:08:57.048-04:00Bad Poetry Wednesday<p> <b>Fingertips</b></p><p><i>by [REDACTED]</i></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">I walk along darkened corridors</div><div style="text-align: left;">And hands reach out for me</div><div style="text-align: left;">To grasp and pry</div><div style="text-align: left;">I want to let them</div><div style="text-align: left;">To feel the fingers probe</div><div style="text-align: left;">and grab </div><div style="text-align: left;">To give in to their pull</div><div style="text-align: left;">And float away</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-50421829175263262452020-08-17T10:09:00.001-04:002020-08-17T10:09:18.140-04:00Bad Poetry Monday<p> <b>Malign</b></p><p><i>by [REDACTED]</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><div style="text-align: left;">Hello there again</div><div style="text-align: left;">I thought it was over</div><div style="text-align: left;">but here we all are</div><div style="text-align: left;">together</div><div style="text-align: left;">Because you cannot get rid of me</div><div style="text-align: left;">You cannot escape what you've become</div><div style="text-align: left;">And you and I </div><div style="text-align: left;">Our fates are tied</div><div style="text-align: left;">together</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's nyquil driving time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-91579933142661576772020-08-05T15:41:00.001-04:002020-08-05T15:41:07.910-04:00Bad Poetry Wednesday<b>Highlander</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>The rocky crown of Arnestine</div><div>Sits atop the hill</div><div>It looks down on all who gather here</div><div>All sick</div><div>All ill</div><div>With despair or</div><div>gout or</div><div>ennui or</div><div>doubt or</div><div>cancer or </div><div>worst of all</div><div>hopelessness</div><div>I am here</div><div>among the others</div><div>waiting for a sign from on high</div><div>A message that says<br />"you are not welcome here,</div><div>but you can stay"</div><div>A respite</div><div>A relief</div><div>Until another day</div><div>Until the crown decides that we should go</div><div>Until the powers and the principalities tell us</div><div>"get thee to a nunnery."</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-20682534749712884622020-08-04T09:27:00.000-04:002020-08-04T09:27:13.417-04:00Bad Poetry Tuesday<b>Meddling Monkey, Busy Ape</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>He hangs</div><div>Simply</div><div>Hands around a branch</div><div>As though it were the most natural thing in the world</div><div>Because of course</div><div>It is</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-36270113224045964232020-08-03T22:28:00.001-04:002020-08-03T22:28:04.903-04:00Bad Poetry Monday<b>Vapor</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I saw us wandering</div><div>Deeper into the smoke and mist </div><div>I watched as we stumbled</div><div>On the roots exposed by the storm</div><div>You looked back at me smiled before</div><div>Disappearing in the vapor </div><div>And I went with you. </div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-2332764544581608122020-08-02T11:24:00.001-04:002020-08-02T11:24:11.019-04:00Bad Poetry Sunday(?)<b>An Answer for Us All</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>You and I</div><div>We want to know</div><div>All the whys and hows</div><div>The wherefores and whos</div><div>It will change us</div><div>Knowledge is power</div><div>More data is always better</div><div>Non-linear regression</div><div>Multivariable </div><div>Can we backtrack far enough</div><div>to see the moment</div><div>The moment where this all began</div><div>The moment when you and I first crossed paths in the dark</div><div>Eons ago when the first human </div><div>Took our first step</div><div>When the first day dawned </div><div>And life began its horrible toil </div><div>And our destiny was locked in stone</div><div>Already fossilized and immovable?</div><div>What then?</div><div>Do you take me for a sponge?</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-19238792094582408342020-08-01T17:53:00.002-04:002020-08-01T17:53:27.998-04:00Bad Poetry Saturday <b>Anodyne</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I walked outside after</div><div>The rain stopped falling</div><div>While the hot tarry asphalt</div><div>Gave its energy to the flood</div><div>And the water rose in steamy wisps</div><div>Back to heaven </div><div>I walked outside after</div><div>The worms began their journeys</div><div>Back to the soil </div><div>I walked outside and</div><div>The clouds simmered with anger</div><div>No longer held back by the weight of their tears</div><div>Flushing and terrible to behold</div><div>The world below quaking in fear of</div><div>The winds of change that never blow quite strong enough. </div><div>Come again another day. </div><div><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-40333865492408133392020-07-28T20:50:00.001-04:002020-08-04T09:02:15.149-04:00Bad Poetry Tuesday<b>Ritardando</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I got out of bed the other day</div><div>Walked to the kitchen </div><div>Ground the coffee beans</div><div>Boiled water</div><div>And waited as the French press steeped. </div><div>I went to to work</div><div>A thirty second commute</div><div>I wrote reports</div><div>Collected data</div><div>Collated</div><div>Analyzed </div><div>And then </div><div>I awoke and got out of bed</div><div>Walked to the kitchen </div><div>Swallowed vitamins</div><div>Ate breakfast </div><div>Lunch</div><div>Dinner</div><div>Wine </div><div>And then </div><div>I awoke</div><div>And walked to the kitchen </div><div>And worked</div><div>And ate pretzels</div><div>And lunch</div><div>Beer</div><div>Snacks</div><div>Bourbon</div><div>Dinner</div><div>And then</div><div>And woke up and went to work</div><div>And then</div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-81815318963454852362020-07-24T17:31:00.000-04:002020-07-24T17:31:22.412-04:00Bad Poetry Friday<b>The Ancient Grapes</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I look around my room</div><div>Bed clothes television chair</div><div>A dirty dish from last night’s late night snack </div><div>And a wine glass</div><div>A thin puddle of deep red still at the bottom</div><div><br /></div><div>My face is stained with today’s early afternoon </div><div>Indulgence</div><div>More grapes but in a different way</div><div>Dry Rich and chocolate covered</div><div>I want to devour them all</div><div>I would like to devour you. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-30095190488441203482020-07-23T09:42:00.003-04:002020-07-23T09:42:47.502-04:00Bad Poetry Thursday<b>The Amphibian Divide</b><div>
<i>by [REDACTED}</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
The deafening noise</div>
<div>
Chases at the heels of the clouds</div>
<div>
Scattering them to the winds</div>
<div>
to come again another day</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And all that's left </div>
<div>
Under the rain-damp leaves</div>
<div>
Is your song</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The symphony of your throats</div>
<div>
Written just now</div>
<div>
Just for tonight </div>
<div>
with themes older than human</div>
<div>
but somehow more human than </div>
<div>
The flickering blue glow</div>
<div>
That lights the grass</div>
<div>
The trees</div>
<div>
The ferns</div>
<div>
The fences</div>
<div>
Emanating from windows</div>
<div>
closed and locked</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Your cries are not for me.</div>
<div>
Your song is brief</div>
<div>
Its peak is short</div>
<div>
Your song is yours.</div>
<div>
Cri de coeur. </div>
[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-83856801399613354372020-07-22T11:53:00.000-04:002020-07-22T11:53:31.043-04:00Bad Poetry Wednesday Again<b>Anthracite Becomes Us</b><br />
<i>by [REDACTED]</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
In the clouds<br />
Above us<br />
As in the earth below<br />
It waits<br />
With unbated breath<br />
It has time to bide<br />
And flights to catch<br />
One piece at a time<br />
A pie<br />
Mystical and strange<br />
Mist from the ancients<br />
Let's circle back.[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-57057845400732194002020-07-22T09:22:00.000-04:002020-07-22T09:22:20.028-04:00Bad Poetry Wednesday<b>A Multiform Panel</b><br />
<i>by [REDACTED]</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
In golden light<br />
At dawn<br />
You see it<br />
Hewed from trees so long ago<br />
Cut<br />
Planed<br />
Polished<br />
Here it is to keep you warm<br />
It glows<br />
A remnant<br />
You see the rings and understand that<br />
This is all that is left<br />
of that spiritual mound.<br />
<br />
<br />[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-1625482580740241442020-07-21T12:31:00.002-04:002020-07-21T12:31:54.003-04:00Bad Poetry Tuesday<b>Admission</b><br />
<i>by [REDACTED]</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
We let them in<br />
You and I<br />
We welcome them home<br />
After such an absence<br />
Years and years and no word<br />
And then suddenly<br />
Here<br />
Welcome back angst<br />
Good to see you again depression<br />
We have a guest room just for you<br />
What a cute couple they make<br />
I say to you<br />
I wonder what they've been up to?<br />
We can chat with them again tomorrow<br />
And probably the day after that<br />
you say to me.<br />
We are a confederacy of hens.[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-34962364088734541202020-07-20T16:07:00.001-04:002020-07-20T16:07:36.112-04:00Bad Poetry Monday<b>Gargle</b><br />
<i>by [REDACTED]</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
She brushed aside his hand<br />
She said<br />
It is what it is<br />
And coughed<br />
Where's my saltwater?<br />
Where is my thermometer?<br />
She looked around the room<br />
And saw a life of tiny things<br />
Stacked atop each other<br />
Precarious<br />
And ready to fall<br />
Held together by some invisible force<br />
Stronger than her gravity<br />
Older than her children<br />
And gathered together in bunches at her feet.<br />
Use your inside voices please.[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-18775303926869336662020-07-17T11:03:00.000-04:002020-07-17T11:03:11.652-04:00Bad Poetry Friday<b>Behold</b><br />
<i>by [REDACTED]</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I've seen so many shops in my time<br />
Pixels out of place and foreign<br />
The shadows do not match<br />
And colors clash against each other<br />
The foreground and the background are at war<br />
And in the middle of it all<br />
A subject far too small<br />
Too hidden to have hidden meaning<br />
It stands alone untouched<br />
Pure radiation<br />
As though the last defender of an<br />
Abandoned outpost<br />
As though it is saying<br />
"All the devils are here"<br />
<br />
<br />[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14097895.post-32779439012157894372020-07-15T11:03:00.001-04:002020-07-17T11:04:57.914-04:00Bad Poetry Wednesday<b>Radius</b><div><i>by [REDACTED]</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><div>We orbit each other</div><div>And once a month our paths</div><div>Intersect for just a moment</div><div>Hands grasping for contact</div><div>And then off again into</div><div>Interstellar space</div><div>I am just another star in your field</div><div>You are my mythic comet</div><div>Where have all the flowers gone?</div></div>[REDACTED]http://www.blogger.com/profile/13115829713873019631noreply@blogger.com0