two small feet home. "-sophin
'My goblet
remained, full of
black holes.
A cloud
will cross the line. Unrepentant
my poems
would lie on hot rocks, for baking.
Never
made it. The two small feet
home.'
Brilliant imagery, this
is what Artistry of Poetry feels like
to experience and be overwhelmed-by.
thank you, Guru!-L. B. Mek
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