A book’s a book,
where angels
tiptoe in between
twenty six letters
(already corrected)
laughing aloud at fixation.
After all the indignity
of editing by editors,
an inject squirts
a story out of no thing
and angels from a soulful place
dance – here and there – out among
the twenty six, flowing a
Technicolor dream.
This one is great. Thanks, John. I always enjoy hopping onto your site to see your latest. - AmberSF
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