I took language by the hand and
studied all its fingers.
I bent one back, I heard it snap,
its feedback yet lingers.
I touched one to my tongue
it walloped all sense with its flavor.
I tried to steal a word from it
I only caught its laughter.
Jack Kerouac with a scent of Henry Vaughn
what if poems could be symphonies, and people their orchestra?
The Musings of N. E. Skull
Ilana Masad Writes
Poetry, Stories, and the Written Word: the works of Bill Johnston
poetry by j matthew waters
** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **
The Story within the Story
The Travels and Trials of Wild People in a Wild World
My thoughts & activities
Rediscover the Glamour
Trial By Fire
Poems, and Wee Bundles of Words by Jim C. Mackintosh
Poetry and fiction by a physicist from the dark side