If you and I went back there, I could show you just where, in the landscape, I felt this. Karl Kichwey is the Director of the Unterberg Poetry Center of the 92nd Street YM-YWHA in New York City. Your face is my lake of victory and fire Ring of my Saturday and Jupiter spot. Averting air, it has its own cetrifugal force. Mesas of chipped cheek Unearthed treasures That smile.
Pearls are the reward of hard work.
Your dual glacier is cloudy and misleading. Pointing away from the direction in which you speak. Wasted motion is unlike you. Your ripples are innate, You roll like a mudslide. I could plunge a knife into your heart right now.