i sincerely dislike metaphors
this one is execrable, proving the point
heel
words are my leash
my master
dragging me from one idea to the next
i have no say in it
i see a running creek, a lug nut, a parakeet
words begin to form
turning the event or image into words
it is exhausting
i long to be in the moment
unconcerned about readership
this is an old habit
and i am old, time to let it go
futile thought, my master tugs
i obey
Poetry by jim
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Written on 2020-03-29 at 12:09
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Lawrence Beck |
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