Zbigniew by Justin Lowe

Zbigniew I chose this life it wasn’t thrust upon me there have been enough conscript poets it is what the poor of spirit would call ‘a luxury’ all that others accrue I have jettisoned to slow my sinking into the earth what the impish of heart would call ‘flying’ I have honed my life like I have honed my art down to a fine point come too close and I will peck you like a songbird it is what the dilettante would call ‘a poetic temperament’ they would tell you that my heart is all sinew, no ...

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