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Star Dust
I promised to formulate a poem of beauty and joy
Out of this clay filled box...
But all I see is the ashed earth of it
the texture of its brownness and reddishness
Like his skin it looks so cinnamony
Smooth
Like it would taste good
Though we both know it will not
I can drill a finger hole into the center of it and
now it is a square box ...with a round hole
I do not fit nicely into either shape
as I am star dust and must just keep blowing around all the time
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