THE POET KNOWETH NAUGHT

Published May 14, 2019 by Nan Mykel

Those who deliver squirming

residue, self-propelled compost

seeking expression, riding along

in the line of ink struggling to be

known, are our curious midwives

who, pulled inward, wipe the mirror

and meet the eyes, meanwhile

harking to the echoes, letting the

pustules break and hopefully setting

the dandelion chutes free to fly.

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