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thick musty odor of

a quickening growing

inside the confusticated open air screaming silence  \

and there are words

I must murder today

that jumped into my orbit of good hope

as if /

warm dry wind blew speech

through my loose window like a

pale cream yellow face sun dress succubus

an unlikely synchronism

her utterances fabricated

reveal scratchy emotional traps

\ a rush job scheme at best

colliding ironies have kicked ass far worse


copyright 2016






About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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