I Just Got My Poetic License
Old poet: “Plangent,
luminous, susurration—
Why can’t I get it?”
•
seventeen pigeons
wheeling up, left, right, down, back—
bearing my message
•
while I’m counting syl—
while I’m counting syllables—
the whole world goes by
luminous, susurration—
Why can’t I get it?”
•
seventeen pigeons
wheeling up, left, right, down, back—
bearing my message
•
while I’m counting syl—
while I’m counting syllables—
the whole world goes by
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