Storyteller

NYC balconies. Photo: author

Photo: author

.

Storyteller

Some tales tell themselves

In the punctuation and paragraphs

Of our lives

.

They shy on our tongues

And in the shinings and closings

Of our eyes

.

They float on our breath

They’re the residue our tears

Leave behind

.

From decibels of voice

Foot-pounds of fist power

Bents and twists of lust and gluttony

They wright a new DNA

Scrawled on sheets and walls

And furniture

And toys

.

Each strand a mystery

Which in only our inky blood

Is solved

.

©2013 Jason Anderson

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4 thoughts on “Storyteller

  1. I’ll be honest. It was a long day, and when I first read this, I thought you said, “kinky blood.” Yeah, I kinda liked it like that after the DNA comment, and I was reading in other meanings for kink, like bent, damaged, etc. But hey, it’s good inky too! 🙂 Either way, I liked the poem.

  2. Pingback: Throwing Verbs | fortyoneteen

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