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Sunday, January 15, 2012

Blot Trot

A building…A tree
My crinkling skin
Old man on the corner
He now is dead
Days have no dates
I cannot spell “win”
My puzzle nears finish
Then pieces get spread
Didn’t that used to be?
Don’t I know you?
Tomorrow’s grave beckons
Tonight’s grave…bed
Eraser man…go away
You’ve done enough…Today

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