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Whit Howland
Poems
Apr 2021
Monday Monday
a fleshy formless blob
pickled in plasma
under glass
I've long ago stopped wondering
where the time went
stopped
planning
dreaming
stopped
things meant to come will come
things meant to be
will be
stopped
a fleshy formless blob
pickled in plasma
under glass
whit howland © 2021
#blackmountainpoet
Written by
Whit Howland
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