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free-form poetry
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Free-Form Poetry

Ashy skin
The pride of a hard worker
The downfall of a dream
On its way to the last bit of
Sunshine it has before ending
The day
Kisses for the weak: scorn for the
Fruit pays close attention
To the insects buzzing
A dewdrop goes inside itself
Pure, and wants to copy the
Rest of the world in time
You rest to Coltrane
His dreams
light a fire and deal.


more by LORD BISON

CHECK OUT: That Golden Woman – A Spoken Word Album by Lord Bison

photograph by Lotte Löhr


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Lord Bison

Jazz-soaked spirit running circles around despair...or something like that. Really. Lover of words, lover of being in worlds free...just...free. New Yorker, artist, Virgo besieged by airhead tendencies akin to Libra moves. Bronx is home base. Began an obsession with writing at seven and twenty-odd years hence, still at it. Enjoy/love/hate/be bored/appreciate to your heart's content. Or something like that. http://www.lbisonartist.com

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