Any DirectionA Poem by Kenneth The Poet
amidst the orange and blue Doppler explosions
on the ultrasound screen, a wildfire of blood flow so to speak, a small slit appeared because modesty is the peanut's forte, an ordered pair where the variables are the same, an infinite pairing placed on what could either be a cosmic Go Board or a chessboard or a checkerboard subtracted of its opposing hues, branching from the place that look like owl eyes subtracted of the total owl essence, it's being could go into any quadrant, all positive, half-negative and half-positive, all negative, half-positive and half-negative, infinitely many points to pick from, infinitely many ways to mathematically describe something that can only be approximated with the correct prose, the life of the human to be, the life of the human to live, at some point, it has to start, it has to begin, it has to originate, and that place is called the womb, from there, any direction matters not © 2012 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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2 Reviews Added on January 25, 2012 Last Updated on January 25, 2012 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more.. |

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