Standing on a ledge ten stories up
wind rips at clothing & flesh,
a tiger's claws. Hair blown to hell.
None of it matters at all.
...
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Simply brilliant. Punchy rhythm. Horrific content perfectlly captured and expressed as if blase.
chilling rendering of 'before-the-moment.' intense.
Hugh, I don't think you're capable of writing a bad poem! This is powerful stuff, never shying away from truth, no matter how ugly - and all the more potent for it. I think all of us can relate to this on some level - even if we don't want to admit it. Hugs Anna xxx