Tag Archives: Quickly in November. poeming

this poet doesn’t like to look in the mirror

.. this poet is a murmured swallow, a shallow puddle of herself, a slow and stealthy (s)word waiting. she’s a hack -saw, hum -bled haranguer of phrase, a moon phase waning in her own sealing wax. trace her loose in(stead) … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments