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Mike Arms
Poems
Aug 2020
Warsaw as a plaything
This. The button. The parent of all ills.
Connected and fed by rampant mouths.
Or by holes made by war.
This motion made perfect in
a court of infants on ruins
subjects
paper star and starlet
no time in a blaze
for the movie of your minute
Looking at notes and scratchy verses from years back.
Written by
Mike Arms
Detroit
(Detroit)
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146
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,
Weeping willow
and
Johnny Scarlotti
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