November 23, 2020

 

Vita

 
 
 

Vita

Poems of my prelapsarian phase
were expositions of anxiety.
They weren't proximate
to Parnassus but were outlets
for oddities I had to code and confute.
This pooled into my consciousness.

Do not arraign me for eructating.
Others are wedded to wristlets.
Mine, if any, is mediocre poetry.






Article © Sanjeev Sethi. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-04-13
Image(s) are public domain.


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By Sanjeev Sethi: