On this page
I anticipate no trepidation
but delight in syntax
as if I were a child with blocks.
A knave with paper and pen
garrulous silence,
this existance is not finite.
The ellipse of my mind
from birth to debacle,
I am a copious connection
to bounteous truth.
Poetry, Rants, Expressions, Stories both fictional and non-fiction, and otherwise worthy collections of words.
No comments:
Post a Comment