Tuesday, October 19, 2010


Bendable together hands
Filled apples tomorrow quiet harbor
The plane and time for why
Is another sky to land
Between rows of winning
Feathers are in season
Devils are like buoys on high
Wire acts as if sodden
Into white murals flaking away
Soccer came up to here
Flirting impenetrably with
Drainage mandates tossed
Sideways am I blinking
Is in the next bay over
Can throw forever by the way
Of throwback nettles called forth
Toward combustible turnstiles
French doors opened the air
Smoking for lost tiers in applicable
Trends give sports the
Looking glass pandemonium
There came the bright hour
In which drafts drifted
Uncalled for like dust to terrestrial
Forced retirement along following
Better reels the mines to fund

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