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My bowl is empty. Bits, spits, and washed out leaves. The curling twig swims through circles, Drowning in broken squares that look like triangles. Crying in Spanish dance halls, To the smell of jagged smiles. Leave me a piece, a whiff, a touch, To sigh, sorrowfully, with sweet incense. --- Sunflowers and posies, Nuts and bolts, Painters of all things lovely, “Circle my heart, Cut it deep, with an ‘x-‘ Your riches are buried forever.” 06.2011
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 10:25 PM UTC
Ode to the Trees in Whispering Winds
My bowl is empty. Bits, spits, and washed out leaves. The curling twig swims through circles, Drowning in broken squares that look like triangles. Crying in Spanish dance halls, To the smell of jagged smiles. Leave me a piece, a whiff, a touch, To sigh, sorrowfully, with sweet incense. --- Sunflowers and posies, Nuts and bolts, Painters of all things lovely, “Circle my heart, Cut it deep, with an ‘x-‘ Your riches are buried forever.” 06.2011
elephants-and-coyotes
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 10:25 PM UTC
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