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Muse

is best expressed

through hieroglyphics

I've learned.

Still coming to terms, though,

with the efficacy

of a stanza,

as opposed to say,

just flattening it all out

through jabber.



Pressing it down,

talking it to death

just to quench

the desire

to put out the fire

of expression.

To get out what's wedged

between soul and tongue.



I would imagine

no poem is worth

the havoc it takes

to create.

Yet we grate,

grind,

just to make

rhyme,

and find ourselves

in a different light

or a different angle of shade

at least.



It's all the same,

they're just webs of words

spun differently

to appear new.

To entangle you

in a different patch

or nook,

and catch a varied reaction

or two

or three

for a "Tee hee! I made you look."

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