deepundergroundpoetry.com
Channels
I love to channel styles
My stylo in hand,
Warm and sweaty
In spite of windows frosty.
Street lights dare omens
Yet ink flows in barrels
Across minds eye carosel,
Carriage of a type writer woman.
I love to channel voices
My throat open like a door
Wood expanding in Summer,
Stuck, though willing noises.
My stylo in hand,
Warm and sweaty
In spite of windows frosty.
Street lights dare omens
Yet ink flows in barrels
Across minds eye carosel,
Carriage of a type writer woman.
I love to channel voices
My throat open like a door
Wood expanding in Summer,
Stuck, though willing noises.
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