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Showing posts from May 1, 2017

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Let me talk about your rose Your painted little rose beside the folded stream in the valley of time Let me talk about the lines the lens and all the things you've hardly been Let me try and doze With this trigger underneath my tongue Little lamb made of ivy Little lamb dancing home I see you in this bowl of peaches I hear about you in this song You're the shape of a quilted pillow Your angels are never young If ever I hear your people They'll spin like bubble gum
About Dona's plastic toys, "You put those guns in the hands of the people that start too early and they stay late, every time. You're too confident that they'll make the rounds again. There's that tall is in his eyes that are sad. They seem to make him feel a bit more than distant and bit less then he should. On a wet cold sweater day under the broad wall he's pretending to be a cold wet sweater on a different day. School is like this but it doesn't have to be.

Throwing bait at the pr…