avatarThe Doctor - Joanie Adams

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yes thereupon me,</p><p id="84f5">If it lasts tonight, it’ll last all tomorrow —</p><p id="cf6d">After last Sunday.</p><p id="22cc">— The friction felt like fiction thereon;</p><p id="ee35">So skin me not for any further depress.</p><h2 id="0597">COME ALONG WITH THE DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER</h2><figure id="fd13"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*5PAEHKnruKYHimS-Xsr5FQ.png"><figcaption><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Frances_Farmer_in_Photoplay,_Jan._1937.png"><b>Frances Farmer in Photoplay, Jan. 1937</b></a></figcaption></figure><h1 id="2984">DO SHARE ADORATION FOR THE GLORIOUS CURATION:</h1><div id="13f7" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/marches-of-gold"> <div> <div> <h2>The Curation</h2> <div><h3>Might I entice and welcome one to a precious center of adoration for Words; A Publication; A Curation — May the…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*yg92vfBYkO5SlI4eqJOXfA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><h2 id="46db">A POEM SMALL; A FEELING ENLARGED:</h2><div id="3abf" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/a-poem-small-a-feeling-enlarged-4314ad0ffc36"> <div> <div> <h2>A Poem Small; A Feeling Enlarged</h2> <div><h3>To This Whimpering-never Creature of Burdens</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div>

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    </div><h2 id="cf41">A TRUE GAME OF SOLITARE — EUROPEAN CANON:</h2><div id="cf95" class="link-block">
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    </div><h2 id="4370">THE HOPES OF THE MODERN WRITER:</h2><div id="c236" class="link-block">
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    </div><p id="e7b4">As ever, Dear <i>Reader</i>.</p></article></body>

A Piece Of Hunger — European Canon

After Last Sunday

If It Lasts Tonight — It’ll Last All Tomorrow; A Poem

Csontváry Kosztka Tivadar — 1895 körül — Hátakt

©Joanie Adams — Joanie Adams; Gift A Tea: https://ko-fi.com/joanieadamms

If it lasts tonight, it’ll last all tomorrow;

So come through the Saturday

And bridge me on Sunday.

All to august me, a breath;

Big eyes glimpse through the night,

Beating a board-sway upon the chest,

Incredibly well-endowed with sensations

It frights the body into naught by the overload of its duress.

Well-founded and caught blindly,

If it lasts tonight, it’ll last all tomorrow —

After last Sunday.

— Stalk, talk, coo!

Rattle my thinning bone, tame the shrew,

And designate me with a rude still.

Sunday always a-lacking I heard the father tell me

Little could I then know about me.

Rummaging the plate over Buda,

The pest was best to detest,

As was his vulturous eyes thereupon me,

If it lasts tonight, it’ll last all tomorrow —

After last Sunday.

— The friction felt like fiction thereon;

So skin me not for any further depress.

COME ALONG WITH THE DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER

Frances Farmer in Photoplay, Jan. 1937

DO SHARE ADORATION FOR THE GLORIOUS CURATION:

A POEM SMALL; A FEELING ENLARGED:

A TRUE GAME OF SOLITARE — EUROPEAN CANON:

THE HOPES OF THE MODERN WRITER:

As ever, Dear Reader.

Poetry
Hungry
Poet
War
Art
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