Some words and Saturday verbal poetry by amazing ladies
Maybe Bukowski The silence poet read his words on the first Tuesday night of each month. Otherwise his voice is quiet, he prefer the Salinger way over Hemingway loudness. He… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski The silence poet read his words on the first Tuesday night of each month. Otherwise his voice is quiet, he prefer the Salinger way over Hemingway loudness. He… Continue reading
Originally posted on Bottled Metaphors:
I was vehemently approaching the art,Mind was transcendent and unapproachableProfusion of flower scent around meFloated like the wreath from a ship,I looked at the prosaic roots cling into…