Roil
by Deuce
It hurt,
the gene that seats all spirit.

Beth rode riot, prod pimpheads, dirtballs, to sane loci,
or, a safe, deaf door.

A tense rose teats chilly balm.
—I, simp, had heeled terms.

So: grab malt, pipe leaf steam. Coil.

Then Gil: spry spy.
No rune guru tells bro-bra blood the hour,
leads proto-thug slant. Collet. Bleat thee? Ha!

I, grunge-hermit, fade Oilers’ berth,
roll east, root heat, dent herms. Date death,
bless prisms. Spire.
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Deuce found poetry no. 121
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#bookstodon #fiction #foundpoetry #Deuce #poetry #fiction #InannaPublications

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I wrote this blog post about #characterization and the intersection between the #realworld and #fictionalworlds. I’d be glad to hear your thoughts. #bookstodon #fiction #reality #42 #Middlemarch #Tolkien #Deuce #InannaPublications

Characters Are (Not) People by Vivian Zenari - Inanna Publications https://www.inanna.ca/2023/02/15/characters-are-not-people-by-vivian-zenari/