Mike Bell/ January 18, 2016/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

Hear now my diurnal ritual,
Rhyme-rammed verse,
freely posted to all:
Vibrated-hyphenated set words,
Each one’s telling,
moves me slow forward.

End-of-day’s reversed writ-shift,
Looking back
and writing of it,
Wherever that place may be,
Now, inner stings
the last thing I feel:

Disconnects my illness,
by odd scan;
Each poke of thumb on screen, held in hand,
Exercise booked,
the re-tapping note:
I am what you read, a daily poet.

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