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boy on a mission to become a man,
slipping on the ledge of greatness
falling
like an appleseed into the earth,
hoping to grow up nice and strong..
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rain and coffee:
my sort of day,
in peasants dress
of slack robe and old socks
sitting on the dock
of my bed, steam rising
from my favouri..
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the only problem I have with feet
is that they don't detach.
detached men can though, from
feelings and unions and Unions
and wives
on the ba..
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hands like the stolen lollipop
hide within her sleeves,
as cat cradles the tumbleweed
in oesophagus, plays kitty
for all the neighbours
and d..
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that light play light
on curled
strands of hair--
shadows 'twixt, bound to
body, borne on air.
'tween the spaces
where form is found,
light ..
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d
r
u
n
k
like a full-stop peddling into
a sign-post,
STOP.
and you [ha ha!] laugh, see.
like a maggot in the dripping
of a corpse dr..
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rewrite of somebody elses poem...
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hot froth, coffinee slop
spilling onto spill
as
sol finds apollo overhead
saturating
like salt in hot silk
and vampire f(r)iends come
backw..
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only the telephone poles are still
lying on ground,
playing dead I think.
while,
Steinbeck raises dust on the back
of dreary prose
and throws..
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the shoelaces sprint into the wind
like bullets and bullet trains.
butI am not in Tokyo, I do not
love to love, nor
laugh at the indigen.
an..
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