by October 9, 2017 0 comments

to wake the muse
must you be sent mad
leave fruit to rot in their bags
taste the blunt steel on your arm
& stroll as Midnight frightens
alone stars
the muse, like the scent of bacon frying
has you craving, hunger
leading you further

those strangers, here’s my number
what’s your story
let me take notes

furious lame glory
in the weary hungover dew
come morning
nudge the muse, wake wake wake
up you
i am scratching
& cry so loud, screeching

paper creates a universe
& expands our views
a voice in the dark.

editors note:

For all our sweet talk and coaxing; she grants emptiness like light for the blind. (We welcome Katie to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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