Friday, January 18, 2019

Alyssa Trivett writes

On Poetry

I never wrote poetry for any other
loose demons or angels
swinging off of streetlights 
or breaking glasses at the bar.
I never scrawled a line
for the ones chasing ice cream trucks.
I never scraped a stanza
for the wanderers
sleeping in abandoned cars
or on park benches.
I only fired my neurons
and plucked words 
from the weary head
for my own self
as my withering fingers
and electric shocked wrists
fire away at the tip-tap toy keyboard.
Image result for typing paintings
She, Typing --  Liu Xiaoxuan

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