The Poetry of G. Sutton Breiding

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by G. Sutton Breiding     31 May 2020

Everybody's starting to crash hard.

Remember crashing after an acid trip?
Like that.

& William Burroughs on every street corner.

Summer morns are

all Blake & dewy angel kisses.

I feel pornographic all the time.

The fog braided with willow limbs.

Bagpipes of a thousand years ago.

Sappho says, " Strum my lyre."

Virginia says, "Follow me down."

So far, so good.

I sing as I sink.

It's like,
Poetry for curbside pick-up.