The Pilgrimage, Book II: Part 6 / Phillip Neal Tippin

Look at all the days we’ve worn through,
Stretched collars of faded memory
And distress’d weeks we’ve pulled
Our arms and legs through.

I don’t want to be original
To be original is to be iterative but
To be repetitive is to be discoverative
So let my wants be repetitive.

The old hand
As a young gun
Must find his hold slacken
To get his grip unslung.

Buckshot-full of character



All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2020-2022 by Phillip Neal Tippin. All rights reserved.

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