3 poems by Quake J. Cox

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This is where music
is made
right between the left
and right bleachers
on top of the crow
that doesn’t know he’s there

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“FUCK YOU”

I write because I am awake and moss
green, and it’s raining outside--
minivans and orange sweatshirts
a green-eyed cat that
wants me as a master
or maybe a give-take relationship
gone now or is that the
mini-van, no it’s the cat

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I guess, I should
be impressed
OK

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