One touch
per perpetual questions
shape in all
and end.
No stanza,
marker
or otherwise indication of dreams not stolen
but killed.
Blow air into the new spaces,
blow air into the old ones to.
November 7, 2014
A Quick Thought
Posted byJames J JacksonPosted inGonzo, gonzo poetry, literature, Poem, Poems, Poet, poetry, poetry blog, Poetry Blogs, Poets, SexTags:Gonzo, gonzo poetry, literature, poem, poems, poet, poetry, Poetry Blog, poetry blogs, poets, sex
Published by James J Jackson
I'm a poet from Sacramento, CA. View more posts
