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miles davis blowing sad
and in the ruins of his room
among the empty beer cans

the room where the floor is tilted
like the fun house floor

he wrote his poems
on the back of over due bills

on paper plates flung out the window
like dying daffodils

on those orphaned buildings
on cookman ave


the click clack
and the sad echo
off his duct taped boots
drifting off empty stores

in the soulless town
he gave a heart

the man
axe in hand
chasing tommy down 5th avenue

too soon the night has found you

too soon you left this earth
if you go down forgotten streets
where the lights push the nightmares aside

and travel down
some forgotten dreams
to hear the melody
and are drawn in
by the strumming of guitar strings

and there on the stage
a heart walking a wire
with a sad smile of thunder and rain
that rolls you like tumbling dice

and if you believe in love at first glance
and listen with a young heart
you'll hear the wind and stardust
that she's chasing in her song
The bats in the tower
rats in the barn
Night befits cowards  
who run from the storm

(Poem To End Chapter 48: March, 2023)
Geniuses don't build
things that can destroy us all
but idiots do...Kelly McManus
Hello everyone at HP,

Starting this month, we hope to bring something new to Hello Poetry: a spotlight on our fellow poets here in this community.

Each month we will highlight one poet by posting an interview with them complete with a little background, how long they have been writing, what inspires them, etc. We will also highlight a few of their best or favorite poems (with a link to each one).

If you have any thoughts or questions you would like us to include in these interviews or would like to participate, please feel free to let us know via the comments section or direct messaging.

We hope this will be well received and provide a way of getting to know one another better.

Thank you,
Mr. & Mrs. Timetable
It’s simple, simpler
when in my raucous brain
I well fight the warring birds
and focus on a single idea.
A deck of words
Meticulously thought
Pyramid stacked

Imaginary
Portals
Bolted words

Swamped
Crusting at the edges
Rusty waves

The ocean softly hums
Droplets sink and surge
Merge and make waves

Crossing paths
Leaving trails
Never to meet again
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