Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Acrostic poem (on Poetry)

Presence spells where one's guttural cave drips, spent.
Outing of misery begins, laconically enough:
Ease on through obfuscation; blaze plain, and where
The feather touch fails, use the freight train.
Response is nothing. What’s behind of behind of behind
Yields like a child to the banquet in his mother’s mind.

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