Untitled
By Emma Tenebrae
Old pens and inky sprays.
Weathered tips dance about the days.
Mental spews and fractile thoughts,
Tie up the ends with spidery knots.
Words emerge, a noun, a phrase,
Sentences flow like grasshoppers graze.
Paragraphs roll over mountainous cascades.
So this is the way stories are laid.
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Copyright 2004 Emma Tenebrae
Published on Sunday, July 4, 2004.
Filed under:
"Poetry"