Tangents
1 poem a day. 365 days.
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Thursday, July 21, 2011
(44)
it hurts
(this rut)
(I thrust)
lips ever sealed
(pleads relieves)
(a silvered sleep)
(a devil peerless)
he falters
(the flares)
freely looking
(eyeing folklore)
never happened
(even apprehend)
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