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Irving MacPherson
Poems
Jun 2012
Web
A spider's web clings
as I walk under
the awning.
What the hell
am I writing.
The muse is
missing and I
crap all over
the page knowing
that nothing
has been said.
But I did see
that spider's web
and at least it
wasn't one that
I walked through.
Written by
Irving MacPherson
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