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ABOUT ME
They come.
The words.
A title,
the snap of an ending,
triggering
a stream of lines
and spaces,
the pounding within,
that will not stop
until my mind is free
of the mess that is
my poetry.
They come.
The words.
A title,
the snap of an ending,
triggering
a stream of lines
and spaces,
the pounding within,
that will not stop
until my mind is free
of the mess that is
my poetry.
view them all
|
Melinda K Zarate
74 years old |
from USAMY TEXTS, Archive 236 Texts
Visitors (2) - 2026-07-01
Tethered - 2026-06-30
Constrained (2) - 2026-06-28
Suffocated (1) - 2026-06-27
Are you pointing at me? (1) - 2026-06-26
Strength in the Standing (1) - 2026-06-26
Hope is a Vampire (1) - 2026-06-25
The Final Voyage (4) - 2026-06-21
What He Wasn’t (3) - 2026-06-20
Fleeting (1) - 2026-06-19
Cheaper Than a New Car (2) - 2026-06-19
The Gathering Dark - 2026-06-19
You and Me now Us (2) - 2026-06-18
The Unpacking (1) - 2026-06-18
Echoes (1) - 2026-06-17
Enough (1) - 2026-06-16
Too Many Forty-Sevens (6) - 2026-06-15
Morning (2) - 2026-06-15
Strategic Reserve (2) - 2026-06-14
Empty (1) - 2026-06-13
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