Pride of a Passable Poet
I stand on the edge
a cliff grazing the night sky
scratching the surface
mile upon inked mile
alphabetical genius
of truer grandeur
ant before giants
my filthy big eyes wander
past cloud-ridden heads
fingernails stretched out
silent shouts for half a dime
sweet graffiti prose
standing on the edge
of alphabetical greats
my cloud-ridden head
writer in a daze
a cockroach contribution
to a gold ink stream
Is it truly worth
this endless predictable
hassle I drown in?
Written By: June Rossaert
