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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 12:48:53 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 171898
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => this house
[time] => 2012-04-13 11:23:54
[hometext] => just an abstract poem about feelings more than anything
[bodytext] => If my house was not skin then it would have to be paper, with ancient lunar calendars written on the sides of my neck. like a magi i would wander moving in my secret phases until many days passed with a head of white return home full and whole. if my house was not bone then it would have to be glass, stained and frail i would break in pieces to form my mosaic the drunken poet. with blackened shades of green and brown, i would hang ornately in some old window of a luthern church in the minnesotas. my darkened eyes being brightened by the passing light and i would be happy again. if my house was not blood then it would have to be ink and i would be in a poem on this piece of paper some how whole happy and content..... [comments] => 2 [counter] => 121 [topic] => 73 [informant] => followfast [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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