Monday, October 14, 2013

Improv. 4 (Week 7)





Dear reader.
Regardless of interpre
tation or context.
Through red scratches 
and white out. 

You judge me, my integrity 
and standard by just reading.

By cradling,
prodding at odd 
syllables.You elevate
With each of our passings.
Make sure I’m never drowning 

in language. That these nights lost
in ink, Burying myself in coffee

were worth it. We 
were worth it. We 
have those paper cuts.
Tears wept in common.
I keep looking down at writing.

No meaning. Sometimes
lost on fractured paper.

Knowing honor is part of
natural selection yet. I don’t 
want to be the one to grope you.



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