Coincidence is Someone's Voice

A Collection of Poems


The Conference  


I split the sky with poorly calibrating eyes.


Alone in contempt of my owned heart,

and the subtle clouds that trail behind.


Jetting me toward a world of desire,

unworthy of machines and cogent premises.


I rest discreet upon a vacuum of intuition 

and fertile flowers.

There I'll sing and spit light upon a carpeted floor.



To dull the noise and perceive relevance in a handshake. 



The End

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