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John Destalo
Poems
Dec 2018
meteorite
The pulsing,
the throbbing
of the magic orb
beckons me
downward.
The sun set early
quaking in fear
at the prospect
of my appearance.
The moon is nothing
but a faded memory.
The sky is lit up
by my entrails.
I crash land
exploding into your fertile spaces,
becoming a spectacle,
becoming a god.
I am a rock.
I am a star.
I am a rock star
baby.
My favorite poem to read out loudβ¦gives me power!
Written by
John Destalo
55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)
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