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the poetry dialogue

A game of words and beauty played out across the intarweb.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Monsoon lips

counted time on my fingers
measured it in teaspoons
bold, its frail lines fell

off of each fingertip, and I
ate each word with lime
warbles like sunken teeth, I

forgot that melancholy tune
who'd time & time, times many
pushed me to the oubliette...
Posted by Anonymous at 7:07 PM

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      • Short, Short Story #1
      • Suggestion Box
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      • Who's Askin?
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