Poetry Drawer: Even Big Guys Cry by Dan Provost

Fostered, aligned
Along the walls of

I lean into graffiti
of hate, of despair.
Where tears leave
me to write shitty
poetry and try to
eliminate the thought
from my mind of
banging my stupid
head against the wall…

Anger—king anger,
Never smiles or looks
for a postcard from

It fades along
the late fall skies

The tremors of Plath

The worth of Judas…

Just wrong, so fucking wrong…

Dan Provost’s poetry has been published by the small press for many years.  His latest chapbook Wear Brighter Colors was released by Analog Submissions.  He lives in Berlin, New Hampshire with his wife Laura and their dog Bella.

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