Residue For Vultures Poem by soren Barrett
Residue For Vultures
What pours from the mouth of a poet vomit on a page
Retched innards, guts, a naked heart, boiling blood of rage
Pornographic passion, grief ashen exposed in a bucket of words
A soul exposed in a poem composed that critics call fetid turds
Pissing on one's journal flushing tears down a urinal is what back biters say
Yet stealing leaves from your vines, they rob your lines then go on their way
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8/29/2026 2:27:51 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
