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a poet in the city (Free verse) by Bill Z Bub

I heard God's wife panting beneath the winter weeds. But I couldn't see a thing. And some Flower, I could smell her I'm sure it was her that exotic purple scent. and a Lizard King eyeballed me as he waved his arms erratically, trying to sort out his multiple personality disorder. Further down, A Cranky Gentleman mumbled something about cigarettes and the moon and the proper way to drown. But nobody saw me, So I walked on into the city.

god'swife 25-Jan-03/10:03 PM
Writing is everything. I too have been writing like mad. Crayons and pencils; anything handy, including napkins and junk mail envelopes. The potential is you, bottom line. Tell me a story. I am so hungry for a good story. Poetry has become somewhat a relic. My good sweet William, your heart, your heart is alive with it, so tell me everthing, let's go for a ride.

First of all get rid of anything that can not transend
For example Kindergarten Computers?
Too much yours and yours alone.
Anything that has the word 'of ' in it needs to be carefully scrutinized.
No ' of's ' if possible.
and also should be eliminated
"there's nothing to it" is a beautiful line
I repeat it to myself like a prayer

"Even on the news
I look for them
Feet up on boxes
I am paid to be opening
A click through 100 channels
Maybe
But I doubt it".

Write your prose. Give me your sugar.




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