Bright Blue Inside

Lack, slack, talent
And feeling foolish
By my writing hand
Extended into the

Heavenly blues, I’m
Smiling, uselessly,
As a penny sent in
A blank check, yet

Sweaty as actually
There, full of life,
I’m talking back to
The masters, and

I don’t care what’s
In print, it’s nothing
To what’s singing
Ink Into my eyes

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