A nameless poem, aimless words,
left scorned, unadorned,
at risk
of eternal unreadness.

No verse to be fixed
’til it fits in the mix, to be tagged
on the ear like a pig.

Nor indexed, nor cited,
all love unrequited,
for lack of the lie
called Untitled.

2 thoughts on “

    1. Well thanks. I got a good laugh out of the “Trump” Snowy Evening post. Had to memorize the original and it’s still rattling around in my brain decades later.


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