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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, March 3, 2024
birds on the wire
it's a black and white
day,
no color.
the sky
and hills have
become one.
the wet
streets,
the black lanes,
the drizzle
in grey.
grim birds
on the wire.
a negative from
the camera at hand.
the world is a charcoal
sketch
without the sun.
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Ernie's Deviled Eggs
making new friends
can you hear me now?
each day a gamble
forcing me into a barbeque
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done with California
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Nehi orange or grape soda
Dasha in the trenches
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what they forget
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the reluctant horse
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this will be trouble
the tv dinner
not unlike us
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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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