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May 2020
I'm such a needy poet.
Feed me drinks to make
me loved until I'm a bloated
drunken Dylan Thomas.
Do not go gentle. The force that
through the green fuse.
We poets are attention ******.
We look for the path not taken
so we can live in Frost's lost woods.
Now I sleep, perchance to dream.
Acme
Written by
Acme  71/M/Charlotte, NC
(71/M/Charlotte, NC)   
30
   IntoTheGale
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