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SilentCry Aug 2014
When I wipe at my inked words
Before the gel ink has dried
My words bleed and smudge
Onto the college ruled paper
Just like my heart does inside
© SilentCry
Nat Lipstadt May 26
a hand without a palm,
a smiley face with a ----
for a mouth, a
headless horseman who
passion rides country roads at night,
but sees no one and no thing

the title is a poem's crown,
full of hint and mystery,
an encapsulation of a poem's
source and origination;
do not mot~send us little pearls
unstrung, for the beauty
so greatly
amplified, when their lustre
is so
great fully magnified
when
strung together in to a lace necklace shape,
clasped by the overture of
the meeting of
the beginning to an end

the title is a mystery, a provocation,
a first bite intended to arouse,
a first kiss upon a neck that tremors
our souls with unanticipated shivering delights, and an ending to which we return with sighed satisfaction, and the cloture and aclosure, and a smile of
ah, I get it!

entitle us to the puzzling delight
that a title hints at what surely will
follow!

— The End —