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Lexington Poetry Month

a space grown wide


It is difficult to have an appetite 
for everything. So much to take in
that you end up empty. 
It turns in to a search through the dirt, 
a great digging and picking and fussing 
over every particle.
Each rock- I want. The flecks of rotted 
timber, a mushroom paradise with 
winged and unwinged citizens, 
everything there, in the tiny patch 
of grass between my crossed 
legs- I want. 
Look! Now my limbs are warm from 
the Sun (traveling a million miles to touch 
my thigh) such great intimacy- I want. 
I close my eyes and find 
a dewy green darkness, 
the heart sound in my ears. 

10 responses to “a space grown wide”

  1. Douglas E. says:

    “The flecks of rotted
    timber, a mushroom paradise with
    winged and unwinged citizens, ” Love it, Tina. Thank you

  2. Yella says:

    Announcer #1

    Here’s the pitch
    Andry turns on it


    I’d be surprised if that ball
    Has any label after that massacre

    Announcer #2

    Hell. Has it landed?

  3. Joseph Allen Nichols says:

    Damn beautiful.

  4. possibly my new favorite of you… i love this one, t.

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