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About This Poem
Meet Me At 'Lanta
Magnolias remember,
along rolling hills,
Tara.
Southern tides
flattened by conscience.
Fruited
sons and daughters
of another revolution
have a big slice of
peach
pie
sotted,
brown-tinge rotted
coronas.
Los peones nuevos
blue-song
and
crumble under footsteps
as usual.
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