Thumb Poem #11
Published Sunday, March 04, 2012 by Frank Sauce | E-mail this post
Wind sails full of bluster match swells chopped white against the moon
A creedless man braced against a rail, his will to fall matches his will to rise
The splash-spray creases his face, his grimace half wild
"Have you ever used these symbols before?" she stalely asks
"No. Never." I reply surprised
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