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Throw back my drink

The soul burnning aching of frivolous fear is an aching crease in my caring blown-tree of selfless intrigue and celeste persona and blind wisemen drink handfuls of woman's persona I bathe in dusks warm embrace and I fall backwards into the wide open hole of my soul and I wonder on the situation of the moment I throw back my drink and marvel at the grace of my life and the simplicity of birth

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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Date: 1/31/2016 8:42:00 PM
DONOVAN, A great pleasure to find and read your poem today. Love -- SKAT --
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