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I am an ancient bipedal mammal. I have refined, over the decades, my own style of poetry. I call it Spill Poetry. It spills from the mouth onto the page as a liquid. It has no punctuation, no meter and no real tempo. Like a witches tea-stain or a rawshack test, it must be read as the beholder wishes. The interpretations and context are always obvious. A spill cannot be ignored though. How they are cleaned up is down to the person holding the mop. {I hope my works bring you contemplation and curiosity and perhaps a colorful short removal from our continuing angst}
Bouvet Island
Male