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Review your life in pages
shaving years off the stacks.
Lay curbside your bits and scraps
and tomorrow—
write yourself anew.
almost the
perfect word

nothing is perfect
it conjures

innocence and
freedom in me

a time before
questions and

answers and
words were

for playing

when gardens
were free

and full of
birds and bees

and beautiful weeds

— The End —