New poem


Ink blot test
Cross burnings
Into a corner
Black butterfly
Voice of the little
Pinball machine
Suburban garage
The fourth world
Day four anyone
Familiar names
Dogs and parakeets
There’s more to it
Those who lived
Sense of rage
Sort of thing
Had a modicum
Clings to your finger
Pull the cork
Model of how
To accept his own
Tribal consciousness
Observed plant forms
Not quite right
At some point
They need healing
Being addressed
Grotto was protected
When you return
Another case
Illness hits one
The most familiar
Vegging out calm
By their memories
I suddenly noticed
Psychic wavelength
And fortifications
Fertile openings
Walking along thinking
Black butterfly
Surgery is optional
Okay to stop
Really know people
Especially these days
Recognize our relatives
Lift the spirit
We would change
For a viable future
What exactly does
Implies a return
Digestive problem
Too bad, but
Statistical sample
In the quad
Decide to open
Meaning behind
Empty space
You pick it
Road back down
To figure out
One of them
Better for them
Asked this of her
Akooh,he said