Thursday, December 15, 2011

Detail Poetry

This was my concrete detail poem.

The book,
I grab its rough pages,
And pull it off the shelf,
Beautiful pages,
Black and white,
Pull me in,
A spider,
Pulling in its prey,
Makes my brain,
Take a tailspin,
Guessing what’s next,
Good cliffhangers,
Won’t let me,
Put the book down,
Always pulled out,
On a limb,
Making me read more.

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