Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

the rights of it


Songs of word, flies hard from
me to you in pause.
Yes you did, you rest upon the
bench held closed.
Rooms of court, fill the sky how
it tries, to still the day in rest.
Know judge is an island to bath,
in the mantle, of purples black pen.
It will read the docket, against her sin.

Submitted: Monday, June 01, 2009
Edited: Friday, June 12, 2009
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