Whistling Dixie

by on October 5, 2018 :: 0 comments

Who is he
but an arching
brow brooding on
the exactitude
of
shared meaning
denied?
Giving
no quarter
yet asking none
in
blatant disregard
of me.
Little bastard.

editors note: And who are we to let him get under our skin? – mh clay

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