A Poem: Four Months

Four months

Watching videos cast on a fast hold wall

axing at pulp to carry

alone I walk the room abhorred

challenged inner and outer soul

my making or off the path

dirt on nails skin torn

that smell wont leave

am I advancing or do I deceive

mental sanctuary  a place to emend

I fell in love with a shaft of light

polish up well as a nervous smile

As ever the Teflon kernel…


By Alan Whitfield 2012

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