Exposure to Open the Sight For Rosemerry and all performance poets.

We step out
Our bones cracking
Wondering why it is
You want this
For the comfort of a closet floor
The audience stares with burning eyes
They are the mirror and the guillotine
The voices, our own voice calling you slut, or fat, or loose
Or queer or stupid… who created this isolation
That could look out there and see other when if your own
Eyes could open they would see as if tripping on LSD
A universe the color of love misting over the void holding even the drops
That are our tears, dissolving us into the madness of a world made of
grace,Rosemerry and lace..


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