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Michael DePasquale
Poems
May 2013
Jazz Singer
The cruise line veeres off-course
to a land of broken
lobes.
I swim in hairy juice,
peppered with blue sprinkles,
alone.
Later, I forgot to
buy eggs. Write a list next
time.
A trumpet player burps,
we laugh and blow our tears.
There is no moon tonight.
There is no moon tonight.
Written by
Michael DePasquale
New York
(New York)
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