Chase Livingston is he who walks in arid regions of the mind. The product of a few fading pools of imagination, he writes a soft soliloquy. His plight I felt and thus enjoined I penned this piece of praising prose…
an empty ocean
that i splashed dry
that i splashed dry
and i walk the shore
that was no more
but now a desert sea
and fading memory
small pools of water
a sun grown hotter
the soil of my brain
is in need of rain
and it is clear
i’d joy for water near
All credit for the above poetry is due Chase Livingston, who’s delightful poem it was that I so shamelessly condensed…
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Minor quibble: it’s LIVINGSTON!
Cool…