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The Poetry We Love

The poetry we love—
fountain pen resting on a notebook with blank pages
Photo by Abdelrahman Bayomi / Unsplash

The Poetry We Love

The poetry we love—
the stuff that wrecks our hearts
and then can build them back
between each line—
does not obey the rules
of English class.

Real poetry is breathed and bled—
not scribed upon the page
in ink and laws.


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