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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Oct 2015
Fewer.
As each ball falls
I juggle less *****
in the end there'll
be none left at all.
Try to do right and
keep perspective,
my sight
is injured by the
onset of night.
And you lot harangue me,
you'd strip me
and hang me if
you had your way.
But today I'm the juggler,
the word
I'm the smuggler
the pirate that sails in
with the goods.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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