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Heat iron redden from cast, ruff drops smoke, like looking thew inkspots. Sharp memories steel bits, a light gray glance your bag over your arm, showing lust dance. Creeping lark haze, invades the slow to gay snarled teeth ready when you look away. Split lip, working for a invisible "Quid" waiting on the highest street collar bid. Heat iron redden in cast to cool A neighbor and his Ice covered pool. The wife kept telling me of husband's, regret stories but I have read all those books of categories. Begging to like this heavy wheel beat when walking for the quest of the meet. Would of been nice gesture, I'd taken care of, and not dirty treasures.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 12/22/2009 6:52:00 AM
I feel a workers electricity in this poem ... it is a middle class revolutionary, keeping the fires tame. I love the control that shudders with the power. Let rip ... I say. Well done, my friend.
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Date: 12/21/2009 5:06:00 PM
so much color PUNCH life...roiling like a sea of discontent. It's couplet form with slip rhyme or half rhyme. Soup mail Light & Love
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things