Blue said to green

I’m keen.

How about you?

I’m through

fighting askew

picking up the pieces

of an experiment

not true.

But now I’ve found

the way ahead

is not by bread


People are waiting

outside your door

at your beck and


to suture your


blood & all.

If breath still

flows from your

head to your toes

little workers will

set you right until

your tight, man,


Not blue.

Categories: creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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