Marc Thompson


the absence we had.
came back with
a bright green vengence
through the dormer.
into the thick
black sole
of the mud
past nightwings
through the dustbin

first comes reality, then a cast iron stove

Its not perfect. Its not perfect and it never will be prfect. Its nott supposd to be perfect. If it were prrfect, it would be filled with impefecions. If it wer perfec, we would all be dead. Perrfectly ded. This is the seekret. let it goe: Njoy the kaos. That's wy wee'r here: Whee: Hoomans: Bypedal mammals. It''s spring again, instability is everywhere.

Marc Thompson lives and writes in Minneapolis MN where he keeps himself busy as the stay-at-home dad of a nine-year-old boy, writing poems, and doing freelance website work for small nonprofits. Someday he may have a website of his own. He has an MFA from Hamline University and his poems have appeared around the world in journals and in cyberspace. He is the author of two chapbooks: Ordinary Time (Laughing Gull Press) and Oklahoma Heat (Redmoon Press).
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