There are fifty of these meetings left this year. You know what you did with the first one. What about the second?
Say something! Say something! Hold the sun up! Don't let it set! Keep your foot on its neck! Don't let it rise!
Have some coffee, have some tea. We'll be here until the stars have all come out.
A little music while our poets and MCs are still filtering in, and my opening contribution:
This is the thread, by which I returned
From the city of the dead, and the dust of the urn
Concussed, the language lost to learn cipher
Adjusting to life on a planet that spikes geigers
The shrike lunges, then lingers over the thorn
Light swallows senses, egos and forms
Stars by inches traveling to the morn
Unwravelling the loop of the lynch with cruciform
Edit: Formatting
Submitted January 12, 2019 at 04:42AM by PaladinBen http://bit.ly/2RrU0E1
No comments:
Post a Comment