Life becomes alien in my hands
a sniffle
a startled sneeze
that pursues comicality in irony,
ever so foreign in every repetition.
A tree grew out of my ears,
it was planted when I was small
and my father had opened up my skull
to look for a foul germination;
something must have fell in then
and something must have fell out,
Words leave me dissected.
Featured Download: If you would like a resource to help you write poetry like “G E R M I N A T I O N,” CLICK HERE.



Comment early, comment often, keep it civil: