" Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry."
I am tripping on poetry.
Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.
I ate the work of Edgar Alan Poe but it was a bottle of laudanum.
I wear the Masque of the Red Death yet he knows who I am.
Deep inside the Cask of Amontillado I meet Lewis Carroll.
I smoke him like a hookah.
Outside on the vast stone steps
An enormous Caterpillar in a frockcoat hands me a library card.
I eat it but I'm not frightened.
I write a poem that does not rhyme.
I eat it but I'm not frightened.
An enormous Caterpillar in a frockcoat hands me a library card.
Outside on the vast stone steps
I smoke him like a hookah.
Deep inside the Cask of Amontillado I meet Lewis Carroll.
I wear the Masque of the Red Death yet he knows who I am.
I ate the work of Edgar Alan Poe but it was a bottle of laudanum.
Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.
I am tripping on poetry.
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Strand's words burrowed into my brain and remained there resonant, reverberating, regenerative. I don't know Mark but if you do please thank him for me.
Oh, wow. I read this 3 times and (because I can't see it laid out on the page) took me a bit to see what you were doing here. The simple word choice, images, and looping structure gave me the feeling of both being lost and found.
I like the unexpected. You never disappoint. Keep surprising me.