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Feb 2017
burn **** down, whatever,
don't give a **** to prattle on
in youthless connection;
shown fear in a handful of dust, then
a lotta life on their face.
at least not all go hungry.
transcend dead-time,
know now how to be alive,
to find decisions forgotten of history.
now, walk away with interest at zero;
     stronger than enslaver.
     trying to frolic without
letting time fly, but check it out,
where did these rings come from? like
basic-complacency, sprouted
like grain, like burial flowers
wilted and browned; death in a hand-
full of dust, swept
in circles. tripping
in the muddle-colored puddles
with curious thought,
'When did the line
          move farther up the path?'
091516; 1/3
Filmore Townsend
Written by
Filmore Townsend
303
 
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