BY CONNIE Z. Translucent cataract, Silver trail. Drip down, Staining, Tears.

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BY CONNIE Z. Anger. Burning fire. Sears through identity, Burning it away. Losing self-control. Flickering flames. Smoldering embers.

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A Poem Is

BY CONNIE Z. A poem is A river of melodies That is too sweet to be put into song. A poem is a glacier of ice That is too cold to be put into a case and locked away. A poem is a volcano of eloquence That erupts spontaneously. A poem is a way of […]

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