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Poem: “Out There”

There’s something about standing here.
Purple lake.
You lake monsters curl
around Nessie’s frame
while locked inside
twirls Nessie’s babe.
The bark peeled away,
the arrow fires straight through
the cotton woods
where the vision stood.
One can hear the fields ticking,
the silence purring
Delta blues
Bitches brew.
The vision spirals inward
to that place
where nothing escapes.
The gourd swallows the flame
until we’re full, until we’re done
until we’ve given up
and then smiles it back to us again.


© 2011 – Stephen K. Pickering







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