Elise Neuman

I find myself fiddling with my poems
Picking and poking and prodding
Like some cattle rancher
Pushing the heifers to greener pastures.
I shove the words together
Hoping they feel like their inspiration
Shoved through a tiny gate, one word at a time

Perhaps a poem of poems is cliche
But it is one I don’t think I will try to move
Let it graze these lands to dust

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