One Comment

  1. Posted June 3, 2022 at 4:27 pm | Permalink

    And tenor pitch, low, dodging the ditches, But flow unending , Rumbling with perfect breath and tow, A pulling feeling, Along with the touch of a delicate nature, a mountain crater, about to explode, then the rush of molten rock, which will stream down, letting go of that gown, Of wonder, pulling everything asunder, then back to that beat, note C, to calm that stormy sea, then float face upwards, remember them muck-birds, not here, I cup my ear, then listen, raindrops glisten, in this place, a corner of my mind, Always looking, never known what it is to find.
    Anthony MC Gann.

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