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Keith Ren
Poems
Oct 2011
sprout
the derby bots
and rounded slots,
the push,
the time,
the go.
the hold-me-down
of ever knots,
the whistle
I can't
blow.
the feigned impress,
the postured lot,
for selves,
do some,
give show.
pulled head from sand,
that anti root.
my only
hope's
to grow.
Written by
Keith Ren
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