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Monday, January 07, 2008

Spellbound, a-musing myself


I could grasp it ...
By Francis Scudellari

I could grasp it,
The nearest twig,
Not to/o long worn
Thin, snap it off;
Whittle it down
Smooth, to a point

I could seek out
Books of spells, casts
Of blessed chants;
Choose one, speak it
Slowly, linger
On cryptic words

I could wave her,
My new-fashioned
Wand, once around,
End where it starts,
Fix this, make all
A-new, at-one

Then un-tranced branch
Broken, I 'd reach
Others in can't;
Connect to be-
Witched, conned join; shake
Free real magic
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