Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches

Live What You Breathe

Don't cool your blood
Before eyes locked to text, read
Your breathless poetry to the open chamber,
Stir the dead. Your flesh is there's
Replicated
Veins vibrant must purge
To still the eager, pale skin red
In the hollow heart yearning eternal fulfillment
Mind fixed on an endless sea
Of warm relatives.

5.17.20

Playing with words, concepts with some structure haphardly formed, forming.

It's about leaning into your poetry like recitations to an audience of fellow writers, knowing they could judge you and learn to love you for following your own path inside their world. Have to be ready for acceptance, not rejection which in the past informed in a deconstructive way.

The following preceded the above poem: "The Real Salinger"