Inkwell 2018-2019

Verse No. 1 By Rachel Poteet I’m trying to get these lines to connect But cannot make them touch into Some rhyme that’ll get your brain to eject Every prejudice and premonition, cannot link together repetition Assonance has made an ass of me. I don’t sit, don’t spit, just stand with my mouth open Brand me like a coward, get my fingers around a pen Tap it tip-top tippin’ for another cup of coffee. Do I think a drink or two will make a writer out of me? Trash it, smash it, turn this paper to a casket Bury me in all my failures, carry me where there’s no air? Stick it! Mimicry’ll make a count of un, deux, trois, t’try Take everything I thought I needed Built it up, pack-reed it, bleed it, feed it

Greed on greed till all the tinder High and dry, a thousand winters Kindle what I thought was kindred! Damnit if I do not get accredited Been done before, still gonna edit it Here is my song! My song! My song! My blood and teeth, my bones all soft My fingerprints, my fears cast off. I’m nothing, but I don’t go up to naught.

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