O you are so solid.Angles sharp. Divinely defined.On one end you’re stolid.But lying worse than blind. While I’m a flighty stringstill wishing to attach.Flakey me…
Comments closedTag: bill lederer chicago poet
I close my eyes. The color goes.What do you propose I call it?BLACK as black. The circadian throes.Death moving on for the Stoicto hook-up with…
Comments closedThere are more poets than branches in a forest.And each branch bears enough nuts to topple a tree.Any tree left standing to ill-fated windsdeserves to…
Comments closed