![]() No PoetsA Poem by Edward Clay![]() In reference to and in memory of Brion Gysin, the forgotten Beat ..![]()
Pool splash!
And then the world did wander, weaving words and spitting forks, tongued scars on the pallet -
"I'm inking the lifeblood! I am!" was utterd with a petrified roar, and slowly the canvas erupted;
flowers on tarmac. (Stain brushed satin and waterfall drops
fall in petals) And in amongst the broken beads of laced sweat,
you were right: poets don't own words - just the beauty of the landscape.
Ripples fade. © 2008 Edward ClayReviews
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11 Reviews Added on February 6, 2008 Last Updated on February 6, 2008 Author![]() Edward ClayThe land of wherever, just south of Nowhere.About"So where you headed in this old broken town, where the day glow orange of the midnight moon is the warmth you gather around? What's there to see apart from the dusty nights under sewn matress skies, .. more..Writing
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