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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My country, 'tis of thee, If thou hadst the quiet pride of integrity, of strength and of courageous intensity, Thy leaders all, all m...
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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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Stunned, not swept off my feet, my feeling, inadequate, somehow absorbs the love that comes to break, warm, around and then within me. I...