all the fame
all the fameof stones in free fall
all the seconds
we no longer conceive
to be carriers
of the handyman
slash
the craft wormed
from soft skin
warped and side led
wringed from the floriferous
dreaded by the short
it is all a question
of power and matter
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2014-11-21 at 20:57
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Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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