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Poem: midnight : she’s trouble / she’s always been trouble / but look at her and tell me
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Poem: on the rocks : what i want, / he said, / is a woman
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Poem: thirteen thirty-seven : I can scrape off the / dirt / And shine like chrome
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Poem: six grams of sex : I ate eggs and mangos the whole / week before she came / & showed up at the doorstep;
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Poem: Suadade : I would so pay you back for this / inestimable loveliness if / only shimmering ghosts of utterances remembered
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Poem: upon hearing (several words) she might (or not) have said : i found a poetry left behind in a basket of discarded words, / a penny each, the going rate for thoughts or — / so I hear.
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Poem: restroom graffiti : you wanted to save this / veined and speckled bar of soap / from an unwashed mid-country
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“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
Jack Kerouac, On The Road ✪
Mila (Jacob Stetser)
Mila
is a writer, photographer,
& anything else that interests him.