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Keith Ren
Poems
Oct 2013
sooners
down isn't what
you think it.
the way the sun don't
go 'round us.
misdirected on a hit
(fucky little bullet-dodger)
we ripe for nothin',
curse-tailing the spit-shines.
just back-and-forthin',
back-and-forthin',
till the burden
drop, till the sun-
she gone.
Written by
Keith Ren
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