Friday, July 29, 2011

Stolen. What is stolen from a poem?

The moment.

About food, it's what can't be stolen. Memory.

OK, same with a poem. We're at a crossroads; let's have lunch.
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1 comment:

  1. sgang123July 31, 2011 at 11:18 AM

    At N's

    2.

    Neighborhood blasphemy
    I toil by your side
    Throw me over the railing

    love out of doors

    ReplyDelete

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