Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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My words speak darkly, diffident
their trajectory, oblique refractions
turn and alter, often twisted, timid
written to interrupt silence
consume it, in sensuous perception
of oddities, angled, obtuse, rounded
strangely dull magic, vision invented
metal mined from genetic veins, roots
burrowing from my brain, peculiar
intuitive source, patterns of syllables
hold me hostage, pen in hand
to devour each moment in its hour.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 2/28/2012