Category: Poetry
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Creep
Creep While you read my letter, I killed a spider, who casually tried to outwit a writer. Not for profit; nor for sport, it’s simple goal I meant to thwart; but merely because it looked like you: those wind blown hairs and eyes pale blue… And as we spoke, your voice did flutter, while…
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An old friend returns…
May 7, 2008 rtr345terdgfsdfertfdsgcvbgfdsretdgtersretrtetsrret34546ere54657ytetrsfdghcsbdnvgdfsrerjhgdfsterdjhgtretrdftregdfretfdregbvfdertsdfer3456etrdgsfcvdfetrsdferdtfgdvcbvdfrtmystical words hidden in pork fat and capers – the lived variety; the experienced type. Not the tart little berries that cause the lips to pucker and the tongue to curl. This keyboard appears to function properly. Time reveals. Things are not often as they appear. ©2008 Jon Mychal Tweet
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The Quiet Inevitable
I found shelter from the sleet under a tree; and sat down on a tombstone marked “You”… So I wrote it down, and felt a little less ill; as the sky reflected perfectly, the hue of that stone, droplets tapped at me with an earnest insistence, each as a tear — with it’s own story…