Art by Barbara Chapman ⊗ Poetry by Tempest Brew
this is the shrine
to never here
the empty seat
leaving me with my
empty thoughts
and glass of wine,
this is the church of
go fuck yourself
except I never said
that and it happened
anyway
Advocate
I’m watching a movie
about this little
kid that just needs,
like a blue angel
standing next to him
and I want that angel
standing next to me.
I want that angel in
traffic and when I’m
on a blind date and
with me now on the
couch or better yet
cleaning my apartment
The Appalachian Poet
down home
and dusty with a twang
to the syllable,
they are string and harp
people, sing
on the front porch people,
write a fucking poem
about leaves people,
drink from a spring
people,
die from a bacteria
people
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