What Rhyme or Reason

is there for a place to park poetry?

Or maybe it’s the daily slog that ambles from home to work, rhythm of sorts with uneven meter and useless rhyme. It must be a kennel for doggerel.

But wait! It promises a quick departure from dreary lines read in flat nasal affect.

Promises, promises. Capitalism always has an exit strategy…

Author: rmichaelroman

... whatever ...

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