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Ted Jackins

Posted in Ted Jackins with tags on September 16, 2022 by Scot

Agoraphobic Blues

Everything arrives
in pieces,
now,
bite sized chunks
in place of complete
thoughts,
brief as Chinese
restaurant fortunes
devoid of poetic
device,
my thoughts laid bare
like unmarked graves,
swept clean.
Nothing left open
to interpretation,
and I’ve never felt
more alone.
(8/29/22)