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A Poet and Her Day
Contributed by
Ina
on
Wednesday, 9th June 2004 @ 03:12:34 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
They all leave for work in the city fields plowing the highways carrying horses on their backs and bread in their briefcases.
I stay home my turtle shell made of cemented hearts with air holes
fir for your eyes
White floors like my pupils because I am blind of course.
My legs fold upon my head I wait for the world to come home to return to me.
Inside me a blender of loneliness exotic fruits regret a little of shame
flower-less
Only four rooms four hundred places to sleep
an hour in a bathtub thirty minutes in the oven forty minutes on the windowsill two hours underneath the rug
five hours in the etc..,
wait
stones against the old glass window no just rain
a friendly tear on my nose
now I have someone to talk to
if only it could talk.
Copyright ©
Ina
... [
2004-06-09 15:12:34] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: A Poet and Her Day
(User Rating: 1 ) by reilt on
Wednesday, 9th June 2004 @ 05:21:49 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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again i am in utter awe...amazing and beautifully written* |
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Re: A Poet and Her Day
(User Rating: 1 ) by buchi on
Saturday, 3rd July 2004 @ 03:50:00 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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Yes TEAR on your nose will keep you thinking...being alone is never alone as we have recalling to do...a great write.. |
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