Cold winter drift for feet so bare
that by the motel door do fleetly fare
some tunnel vision rote of politik
made quick and dirty by another trick.
The wise men come play at Nine,
the recreational by Eight,
married and looking, Six,
while the rest mere contemplate.
She bides free time in spinning
then tales told, but in a spell;
the tiger's weight of winning,
a use for things no one will tell.
YOU ARE READING
Succulent Skin
PoetryAs an ongoing work conceived with no rigid form or rule over content, many subjects receive treatment in widely varying voices and styles. To go with a lot of the unstructured free verse, there are even a few pseudo-rap or hip-hop styled pieces, pro...
