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Automatic Writing



By now, I'm looking through
The back of my head, or over shoulder
From force of physical habit;
Wormed 'whole', clear out of the hole
But without any silly rabbit.

Seeing myself still spooning your curve
In a bed set for two, like a table in the stars;
So you can vouch, I travel in deuce . . .
Slipping right between coil of mortal bars.

Now I'll be sitting again to write,
But not with pen, rather the feather instead;
Quill being easier to move, in static light
Of finger-tips free of flesh's lead. . .

Poet's don't retire, as this testimony tells
But buffered in sage, still engage the fringe;
Talking in tongues of blue,
Expiring in the deeper wells, of astral hue
Where metaphorically. . .
They keep the cutting edge.

TBollinger
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Submitted on July 01, 2016

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Tracy Bollinger Claim this poet

Always liked to write and have written poems periodically over the years. I've never shared them withanyone except for immediate family. Decided to take the plunge and put some out 'there'. But bearwith me, I don't really know what I'm doing. This is therapy of sorts and I hope to let go of the need to rhyme. It's a mental condition. I recently found out my grandmother used to rhyme all herletters to anyone. Go figure. I hope you all enjoy my ranting! I do like what I've seen other's post. more…

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    "Automatic Writing" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 20 Jan. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/66283/automatic-writing>.

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