in Poetry

in evening, reading a tome of truth
parochial in particular pluralistic

what real feels is a bona fide bourbon pour
that enlightens the drip dry in a drizzle of
liquid efficacy

You see, I bookmark when I showoff to better
revisit and relive the eureka, the thrill of
the BINGO, the conceit of “I’ve got it.”

In truth, what proof reveals…the moist muscle memory
of awakening again, with another hangover.


Day Two 2018 NaPoWriMo

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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