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Wednesday, November 30, 2011

December

When the nine that’s eleven
becomes a twelve and not ten
browns will wander toward white
and hard swallow still soft light

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

when the ten
tosses her nought
brown merging
with white
becomes cream
and caught
in a stream
starts thinking
of hills
of water
of pails
of three blind mice
who once had sight