by Tohm Bakelas




finished at 31


another dry spell 

struggling to find the words

the muse is long gone 



a black line


laughing at the odds


stranded in today 

time has its limitations 

wind the watch and wait 



a black line


declaration against idleness


between shadows the

lonely editor writes his

poems through the night



a black line


my epitaph


tohm bakelas — 

new jersey, birds, pizza — 

living, breathing, poetry 




a black line


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