Poetry As a Lie
Arrangements of particular sounds
and spirits never mended
by these renouncement of desire
just nothing more then wood wood would
wouldn’t dare say it’s added to the pile like wood to the
pyre
or the fire
Terrible chimes of rhymes
announced practically beforehand
forget rhyme
or meter
or the feeding of words to canvas
nevermind it all
just forget me to time
and call it a day
Copyright © Brock Gates | Year Posted 2014
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