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THREE POEMS by SHINE BALLARD

YORE SONG


like pinched

cornstarch,

my body, joints

achingly sound

as i languish

toward farther further


when ailments

nag us motherly—

the noise :

a melodious malady,

an impatient aching,

a song foretolling

the somatic dirge—


we move a plangenttune


REPLENISH


an

adequate sea :


empties,

hemorrhage


can one replenish,

can one reservoir,

what never existed?


can—

haven't—

can't—


NOTSKINNY


my form

lacks symmetry

the physical shape

of me, my

e motions, unfair


broad shouldered,

skinnylegged,

lesskinny knees :

a fullbody,


TopHeavy

brand of unbecoming—

as so

internally,

e x ternalize :


this habit makes grotesQue noise

 

Shine Ballard, the rote-renderer, currently creates and resides on this plane(t). @shineballard

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