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Sold as Whisper
At that time I found I could never defeat whatever you joined. Becoming reckless, I treated the disease with other diseases. When you fall down keeping up the pace, you are a conqueror; you seem sure footed like the braying mule. It's more than strange, that in a time of dying. Mementos stay in places meant for broken vessels. But they’re easily brooked, in a room filled with vapor. As a delicate offer seeking your trust. Bix Beiderbecke Played Here As the guy wires tighten the assembled say plenty about their easy way out. En guard they sing a tenor it rings like brushed armor. Life as a thing ongoing seems a thing non stop, masking the symptoms in desire’s flaccid arms. Hearing the bone sound, you walked on the ramp on the side of a ballfield, and saw blazing arclight. Full of the summer drink in your fading housedress smiling at an end of night. Though it’s only bestowed, to show up in trick mirrors. Necessary lessons learned, buckshot lovers take over. Opening tins of biscuit, cans of ale out of reach. Both arms are curving, in an awkward embrace Bio: Michael Igoe, neurodiverse city boy, Chicago now Boston, recovery staff at Boston University Center For Psych Rehab. Many works appear in journals online and print. Recent: Spare Change News(Cambridge MA), thebluenib.com, minerallit.com. Avalanches In Poetry Anthology@amazon.com. National Library Of Poetry Editor's Choice For 1997. Twitter: MichaelIgoe5. poetryinmotion416254859.wordpress.com. Urban Realism, Surrealism. I like the Night.