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Apr 2017
Ink
When the poet writes
His wrists, he cuts
Then, he bleeds
Into your cup
So you can
....drink

He then, mixes in
Echoic phonesthemic
Units of language
Which ultimately proves
That the poet's blood
...is made of ink
Excerpt from:
'Jacob's Ascent, Poetry by Mekael'
© Mekael Shane, 2017
Mekael Shane
Written by
Mekael Shane  Zürich, Switzerland
(Zürich, Switzerland)   
368
     Marco Benitez, mickey finn and SPT
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