Rhyming words into crafty units, like the screws in a man's garage that he turns into wood. Breaking apart what was.
Poetry is not read
neatly, does not come
in perfect
lines, it does not come in squares,
poetry is divine.
Poetry
comes from air fire
water
and earth. Poetry is the truth, the Goddess
in all her glory, trapped
in a book.
Tis not a poem when a woman smiles and bends. Her acquiescence is the sin.
She has always been better than him.
