Make rooms.

I write as I drown
gurgling on modifiers
lungs full og qualifiers

my pancreas INFLAMED
with mysticism, pomp
and laudry-wrung end rh...


those pats on the head
must have made me


Poetry by Mikkel Mowinckel
Read 631 times
Written on 2006-10-18 at 04:59

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Mikkel Mowinckel
When a loved one tells me I am not loved, I am hurt. If I am hurt by a stranger commenting my poem, I am looking for self-worth in all the wrong places.

As with any utterance it is up to the reader to discern whether he/she has received any meaningful communication, or merely inane babble.

One has to think of these things, or risk dazing through all exchanges without having received or imparted any meaningful understanding.

I for one, am not content with either confusion, delusion, or illusion.