poetry: hair alight in spines

something calls in the night, sharp and sweet, like candied ginger ought to be. there’s a wet heavy heat on the back of my neck

and i can’t help but think that you’re there.

from fact to poetry
every 20 minutes
check your own state and
compose something new
neglect is the gateway drug
facts are friendly
I receive the care I give, or more
rising expectations
muddy waters.


(with a nod to Mike Barnes)

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