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Dennis Willis
Poems
May 2019
A Thready
Scritch, scratch, scritch
time is unmarked
by my efforts
as are you
i am scraped
hollow and thin
shelled
like tomorrow
eaten by tv
and talk radio
and old songs
played loud
musicians died
so you
could hear
yourself beating
underneath this hearing
of these words
and those thoughts
is you reading
for the blood
of virgins
and the death
of gods
Written by
Dennis Willis
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