A Fragment

Vintage Words


Like a spectre from another thule
the cadence police arrived and took my 
poetic license, suspended my quill. They
revoked my ability to buy ink. Electricity

was limited to .coms, batteries were

like a tether, not to be used for poetics

or anywhere near poetic terrain.
But the challenges kept comming; a  
reminder that I have poetic acquaintances
not tapped in a while. So I am back briefly, 

to read and wander around but the prose police

said no challenges. They might burn off my
my writing fingers and loosen the alpha-numeric

chains that keep me grounded.

Still. It is good to visit from one temporal

existence to another plane where poets float

in the literary air and make lots of noise traipsing

around the fire called human emotion as artistic 





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