Ginna spinning delight somewhere between cotton and blonde;
gentle, sweet, complicit in a prom or two,
we shared an assassination, a post-grad fraternity or two,
a sister's indiscretion, respected in cautions both observed.
Love, then hurt turned ruin by an innocent but uncommunicated choice
found to be the basic globe, cartography finite, to explore for my life.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
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And Wacky Am I
And now wacky am I, I thank you, mother, for the days I take no pill; the oak table that folds upon itself, a hinge, a turn, a hidden b...
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Walked past, by your place today, in the neighborhood, you know, scouting poetry at a bum academic show of a score of miserable poets'...
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Lock it up! There is no one more powerful than thee, For regardless how you exit or explain Unless you put lights out and lock up...
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He looks back at me, reflects my order to stop smiling and not to stop because of him. He asks to try a frown, to look into his eyes, t...
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