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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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