the bed could claim no owner,
no mother, lover or confidant, when it made music
in the clutches of a night it sounded like a left turn
on a flat tire, it sounded
like a pointer finger caught in a crevice, it sounded
-the bed was a blues lyric, by Patricia Smith on the Gulf Coast Literary Journal website.
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Found: Poetry is about sharing poetry from around web.
The internet is full of hidden gems—and other, less cliché turns of phrase. I read a lot of them. These are some of the choice poems I’ve found online, read aloud for the podcast crowd and those who don’t have time to sift for epublished gold themselves. Or, you can read along on YouTube or read the poem yourself by following the links found in every description.
New poem posted daily (for as long as that lasts).