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Stephen Mead

Updated: Sun, 20 Oct 2013 03:54 pm

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A resident of NY, I have been publishing for roughly a couple of decades as an artist, writer, maker of short collage-films and poetry/music mp3s. For me, the impulse to create comes from some innate need to express feeling and it is my hope that the work strikes a chord in whomever comes across it.


Downtown Trains & crickets, the space velvet enough for a guitar & Elvis singing soft & low... The night's going slow here, slow as a naked back moving gently to the touch. Reach up a little, feel & mess the hair, taste distance so smoke-close it's a face being named like streets as you near them, slipping into a dream of fading cinemas, of silver rain on the wind. Heading east, now west, this maze takes form, an envelope's navigation to where it belongs, or could, delivered by a kiss of so much sweet spit & sweat. Find, find the address, arm around arm, over neon fields & damp fragrance dense in the shadows. We are that package, its inter-locked strings. We are those rooming house woods.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Ann Foxglove

Thu 24th Oct 2013 16:42

Hi Stephen - welcome to WOL. I hope you will enjoy the site :)

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