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I sit
No sound I utter The fridge Drones on Intruding upon wind Rustling by Down streets Filled with discarded plastic bags Tumbling Into gutters Washing, churning Breaking down Through clogged sewer pipes Emerging Blasting On frothing waves Crushing in Upon the shore Breathing Back into us all
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AuthorBA Hubert lives in Vancouver British Columbia, a long time writer wanna be with the metal boxes of unfinished manuscripts and the rejection letters to prove it. Archives
September 2024
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