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PK Wakefield
Poems
Feb 2015
Untitled
unto to this day(–drugged
as which with
the sonorous
pull of jazz )
a dream is born
of coiffed in sighs
of drunken fuzz
the hurl burl
clap trap
of Paris ,
occasionally a girl mouth;
tongues; the
divine laughter
deep
within thighs(
where lays
a flower of April
(
giddy young and tight
)
immortaly dying
)
and serene
Written by
PK Wakefield
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