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Matutinality

What'll I Write... he
Muses, surveilles the nil 
Wind, windowy visage, 

& gateswayed key-pad, 
like a cyber abacus
to touch & stroke, counted-

on to reveal it's 
whilom Mysterlex, vener-
able... Sunday, a 

small gaggle of Ibis, like a 
short-stack @ the Pamcake House,
gather to beak the 

night-sogged sand & soil - 
Yes, it is Raining, & what'll 
I Write onto this 

Sky heavy with no 
sound, Divemy - to Alpha-Bet- 
souper-bowl-Day to score 

& yield 1st-touch-Words, 
off-costume, aplenty like 
Muskmelonseeds al 

centro, resplendent 
like an occasion, of the 
Yes-twoDay's a mazed 

Prosetrycopia!, huh! - 
What shall I Write, In-
Deed!?, but Linnear... 

and Quantumescent,
A Sirge in Time to the
Muse of Rhyme, I Am...

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




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