May 2, 2010
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Cannot you think the thought
Of evergreen trees,
who hum like afterthoughts,
and then, pine,
dances rich in musky ponderings
and needles of ever-muse.

Maybe just might
Pray tell
I can’t
Maiden’s shame
Damn straight
Oh well
Finder’s keepers

Do you sit like flowers
craven petals folded till the
minute kills her Devoted moment,
and hatches an egg no larger
than a thumb, and petals split till
we think on them.

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