Poem: “Put It This Way”, fr. notebooks, Jim Stallings

Put it this way

He didn’t have a clue

Foppish lad in open air

Celestial blue sky

Chromatic angel harps

Quicksilver fingering

And joy was possibility

Even high probability

Attesting to honors earned

The frozen earth held firm

And was remained in hand

Like bank assets seized—

Fear had flown

Into insubstantiality

He lived in Roman order

His cohorts awaited command

While he dreamed of spring.


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Filed under best thought, first thought, flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress

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