I dunno, make hamburger

I dunno, make hamburger

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Nov 26, 2020
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Poetry
Tagspomes
All the words that we grind up at the end of the day after the editing takes the prime cuts. I am a dangerous man when turned loose with a typewriter. - Bukowski It's when you begin to lie to yourself in a poem in order to simply make a poem, that you fail. - also Bukowski I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me, I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. -not Bukowski, surprisingly. Actually Faulkner Cover photo adapted from Cliff Johnson https://unsplash.com/photos/-uaOnCFb9bU
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#146
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What a wonder it is that you might not have a single clue that someone somewhere, from the core of their heart, writes about you. Maybe a secret admirer or a long lost friend, How you lie in the words of their poetry, in each phrase until the end. In the notes and the journals In the depths of the pages, with every drop of ink, love has been buried for ages They don't express their affection. Instead, get it down on the paper with bliss, and you might not have a single clue about it. What a wonder it is. Theartist_nick

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