White Space
Here I sit,
at my word pro,
the white space
staring me down,
but not out.
I experiment,
juxtaposing
pseudo-random words
into pretentious,
premeditated
poetry.
Then with an afflatus,
words flow,
whispered by my muse,
into lines and stanzas.
at my word pro,
the white space
staring me down,
but not out.
I experiment,
juxtaposing
pseudo-random words
into pretentious,
premeditated
poetry.
Then with an afflatus,
words flow,
whispered by my muse,
into lines and stanzas.
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