Best Poem of L'Angley S Delmonte

For Time
Glory happens
In the places
That are reserved for
Sitting in the grimy corner
Three lines into one
Wayward
Shaking hands the fury of the storm
Cupped around
The parted end of humanity
Fire, try feebly to touch
Burn my fears
Black shadow of green colour
Dances across
Sulks, if . . .
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my new bicycle
is rusty
it reminds me of the circus
it is red
and white
and sunset-like memory dipped in night
with tiny holes poked in the lid
of the jar
it can take me places
that I dream about
but never
really
go . . .
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