Tag Archives: muse poems

Black thrones waiting for finger strikes {Wooing the Muse} 

She’s a wily one-der, all curled up crescent like a soon-hiding moon.  She swoons at sea, sirened only by salt. (But she can barely swim and gets con-fused.)  Eyes closed, we clack. For our own   (sanity) sake, we eat cake.  And are not a-mused.  :: … Continue reading

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