Saturday, January 22, 2022


Put the words in the wringer and see how they turn out.
I don’t think you know how brave you are and I wish you did.
Our poetry is so different, but the dedication we both have for our crafts could be doppelgangers.

The other night on the phone you said you liked how I read my poetry and it filled me with so much joy I nearly burst.
I’m thinking now about the time you said you liked my growl. You cut through my defenses like no one else I’ve ever known.
I know you care very deeply what people think, but I also know you could give a shit less if someone doesn’t get you and that empowers you and I wanted you to know it has also empowered me.

Put the consonants and vowels in the blender and press all of the buttons at once as your poems paint murals of blood and fury on seething walls of infamy.
You once wrote a poem for me that was very different than anything else of yours I’ve ever read and I know that poem wasn’t your favorite, but it still sticks to my heart like warm goo.
You’ve never worn blinders when it comes to seeing the world for how fucked it is or believed that seeing through rose tinted glasses would solve anything.

Your stance on stage resembles some femme fatale singer from a punk band in the seventies.
I know it’s not about the performance for you and yet the way you spit out your poems never fails to stab me in the face with glitter and shards of stained glass.
Put the words in the wringer and stand back because your chemistry set poetry brings us all back to life.

Charles Cicirella

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