The Dangers of Adoring Living Poets

Screw together wobbly word stairs I have not yet climbed.

Marry us like bleeding fingers and fenceless lands.

Sink into the great gut and wait for me, an ear.

Stir my hardened words with long, calloused hands.

Give it to me straight, one rough character at a time.

Misspell yourself upon my belly’s sand.

Douse the torch and dance with me until a sphinx appears.


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