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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Thursday, February 15, 2018
the itch
the itch
returns. but I can't get
to it.
my arms don't
reach.
my fingers are too
short.
the spot escapes
me.
I need someone to help
me with this.
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her red high heels
indecision
the pressure
nothing to say
there is work
the gas
wrong address
today
the palm reader
make it go away
the crazies
all yours
should have had the meat lasagna
to kneel and pray
stop the bus
when you marry an evil person
we have the room
a plate of hours
the white cake
the busy hens
sunny inside
the ping of contact
come home
give her room
the love within
some people
the stage mother
the picnic
where have you been
the long distance call
i've made a mistake
secret ingredients
gun control
doing laundry
doing laundry
nine pages
nine pages
in the moment
as it should be
as it should be
spin the wheel
the worst mistake i've ever made
all hell broke loose
into open arms
yes. me.
the black crow
night walk
forward
why not
so far away
the fast year
stored away
the old job
get there from here
rare fruit
the buzz of silence
the itch
condo association
a poem
the beat
the hearts
the long book
my therapist
coffee talk
as it should be
the weight
just like that
the pale sun
that look
the cave drawings
the new world
every inch of your love
bullets
light starch
press on
in colors
the black bull
this way
not a pretty cat
boxes
the long road
coming out the other side
we fall
the black leather coat
a month of birthdays
no forwarding address
a wrong turn
form over function
light over dark
in the cave
what now
the late letter
waiting for the sun
rainy day money
the carnival date
cow milk
sleep walk
what to sell
wood for the fire
never enough
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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