Thursday, May 25, 2017

Flick Flick Flicker

Luckily, I get little from 'likes', but I get poetry from frustration. When I feel unread, ignored...I become, 'as the dead', with great power to express; as they do over there. Lights flick flick flicker, chairs stack themselves...my kids wash the dishes, and everything's better!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

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