It's just poetry, it won't bite


01.02.14 Posted in today's words by

Perry L Powell is a systems analyst who lives and writes in College Park GA. His work has appeared or is forthcoming at A Handful of Stones, A Hundred Gourds, Atavic Poetry, Dead Snakes, Decades Review, Deep Water Literary Journal, Frogpond, Haiku Presence, Indigo Rising, Lucid Rhythms, Mobius The Journal of Social Change, Poetry Pacific, Prune Juice, Quantum Poetry Magazine, Ribbons, small stones, The Blue Hour, The Camel Saloon, The Credo, The Foliate Oak, The Heron’s Nest, The Innisfree Poetry Journal, The Lyric, The Mind[less] Muse, The Rotary Dial, Turtle Island Quarterly, and Wolf Willow Journal.

By Perry L Powell

More to this
than safety.
The chill at daybreak
is also an invitation.

In this strange place
armed for combat
and guile.
Our lives for a song.

or forethought afire.
What we do has the beauty
of soil.


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