I dreamed of brown, of
straining fields of grain - of nights vaulting over castle walls - they stay up for the morning assault of senses. Awake they lie about the grass, though cows maroud in laughter, stoic they meander in cud, bringing stilted conversation. It's to converse, to be sure of bright colors that careen, a comet making a way across pots, bubbling in anger. It happens to be a rising tide that causes her to embrace the sand, grounds for desertion, taken to extreme - expressed. Espresso is to mock rudiments of conversation too loud to reckon it written in prose, this store will likely encourage them to target poetry. It's likely that snobs take to it like knats they mimic Breanna who walks around in gales of laughter - but the cause is the brew, the drug. © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
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