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Imitating Bob Dylan

A poem like a song

Photo by Weston MacKinnon on Unsplash

His sunglasses hide a past-less tide
of chaste blue eyed godless lies,
where organs swell like noiseless cries
in the streets of heaven.

His hands not fists, a bland narcissist,
smiling nods of tourniquet fish,
bloated brands of prayer once wished
to hear the song of heaven.




Together We Grow in Poetry

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Jay Sizemore

Jay Sizemore

Provocative truth teller, author of 19 poetry collections. Cat dad. Dog dad. Currently working from Portland, Oregon. Learn more at:

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