for Kerri Shying
If lines tend to circles
(no reason they don't)
the barbershop
and supermarket
the light is so dark
a fugue diminished
the mimic of everything
I am right behind
the neck and the clock
an oblong is a circle
a wrong wayward world
I'm only screaming
every twist is the same
I'll have to comeback to that - boy!
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Deleteloose as winter
tight as spring
maybe the poem
stepping across the creek lightly, on the wobbly stones Rob. xxx
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