the poetry knook, the poetry of stephen m. james

So dirty, you want to spit out your gum

when all the human love isn’t enough
and you wonder if you’ve experienced love
when the ball point runs dry and
the creative juices no long serve up mixed drinks
intoxicating the whole page until
the end looks close and thoughts of self-mutilation and guilt
arrive on a red light subway and consumes like African fire ants.


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© 1993-2024 by Stephen M. James.