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May 2021
I'm in here
somewheres
I don't look like
you imagine

I"ve tickled
the sugar coated skin
of my closest friend
so he knows

I'm pushing the field
that thinks its the thing
that is the instrument
holding the wave

in case i stop zap here
and i am reconstituted
as a line of *******
like poetry you snort
Written by
Dennis Willis  Oh
(Oh)   
48
 
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