Poetry

a spring wednesday

this evening
the release of toxins
corrosive acid on the skin
watching it bubble
and smiling.

this evening
I’ll believe anything
that I hear or
I read;
finally fires have
been allowed to burn in
the pits prepared for them.

this evening
the front of my
head is the fruit
of my body
and eternity, if only briefly,
makes infinite sense.

this evening
is what I’ve been
waiting for since
I knew your smile
staring up at me
from my abdomen.

this evening
I could have done
anything but instead I
chose you and the
truth and abrupt
clairvoyance.

Kevin Crispin
What do you think is up to my right in the picture? A cob web? Probably a cob web. Or maybe it's my Beatles records on top of my air conditioner. It's certainly not fresh, new wainscoting.

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