Into The Middle of Things by Johanna MayThe poetry that moves me
inconveniences the banal coupling
of reason and aesthetic,
into the middle it adamantly arrives
premature of its birth.
Should it be given form,
its approximate might be some entity
as shocking as a nylon clad albino
seated on flowered chintz
sipping blood from dainty china.
Its voice a terrible grace,
and its silence
equal only to the quiet
of an inert bludgeon. 01/07/2013 Posted on 01/07/2013 Copyright © 2025 Johanna May
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