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I Brew in Broth

Michael Lee Johnson


When the silence of my

life tickles in darkness

delves into my daily routine

caught in my melancholy music

at times, not exact;

then exuberant auto racing playing

at times, not exact;

(a new poem published or a kick in the ass)

kick smacks like tornado alley

in the tomato can

left over-paste

of my emotions

at times, not exact;

I realize the split of legacy,

of loyalty on its knees fractured

like a comma or sentence fragment,

naked like a broken egg

between friendship and hatred,

I stew like beef then broth

simmering

sort of liked, sort of hated,

not exact.

 

-2007-

 






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