Poetry Blog by Ronald Hoffman

All I think of when I see these boots

is a hand full of dimes

squeaking at me through the leather

and broken soles that seem to grind

my feet to the ground

 

All I see is a row of wooden picture frames

and I count them, subtract them, divide them

into the hours that mark my sanity. Because I

am aware of time and can add, subtract, multiply

and divide it I breathe thro...

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