we might’s well drink the brew.
If this is hate,then I guess that’s where I’ve fallen. In ‘Murica these days,can’t suggestmy good friends to the north(south, … More
I need you to see some flesh on the jagged bones of the life themes I’ve expressed in my poetry.
in the scheme of things,
I see these as small vices.
“we only want you”
this poem becomes a witch’s brew
Reality is a harsh mistress.
She seems straight-up at first
but then she throws a curve
and a sharp angle. Downward.