Free verse

Me in my office

chair, uncomfortable


to this desk

look out

longingly, into

a sun-warmed, winter


a lone pigeon

streaks across

my vision

Ah, the freedom

I am wont to

think… but

is the pigeon free?

From hunger, the need

to forage, fend?

maybe i, in my

office chair

can be

free, after a


with Ctrl+N, a new office doc

pristine white

opens, which i can

mark, with

poetry, withheld breath

exhaled, onto this


if i can write

a poem

just like

this, i surely

must be



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