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number nine... number nine... number nine
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them poles is goin up again
the tent is rollin out
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she had a daddy money tree
with real low branches
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wind my spine around my heels
and leave me to absorb
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she wakes up like a dancer
giggles till the elevator comes
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the measure full / a sleeping star
an alarm set for / then
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these are my love letters
each house engulfed in flame
by almost alex
35 lines, 1 comment,
on Feb 7 9:56 PM 2008
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They float like ghosts through haunted halls
Oblivious to peeling paint
by almost alex
47 lines, 1 comment,
on Feb 7 9:48 PM 2008
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I wouldnt stay either
if it werent my house.
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i've sinned too so I'll wait my turn...
I keep a stone, for just such occasions
by almost alex
30 lines, 2 comments,
on Jan 28 10:24 PM 2008
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I claim this blank text table in the name of Almost!
by almost alex
4 lines, 4 comments,
on Jan 22 12:08 PM 2008
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blues like burning
butane flame
by almost alex
3 lines, 1 comment,
on Jan 20 1:14 PM 2008
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There would be swings and hamocks, windchimes and telescopes,
buckets on ropes and pulleys , Oh what a joyous amalgam of ropes and pulleys
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she kept a space
for him
by almost alex
30 lines, 1 comment,
on Jan 15 9:12 PM 2008
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they say no man is an island, but I am an island
i just watch the continents dance on the horizon
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too many lines... cant decide
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they seem to slip from the curls of your lips
and land on my skin like snow
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dont make it a sad song yet
I'll be easy to forget ... if it hurts
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temporarily removed for personal reasons.
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somehow the hustle bustle
turned to panhandlers /and the cry of hungry infants
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he prayed, silently, for a plane crash
or a falling satellite, / or a nuclear apocolypse.
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sing to me of daylight dreamers
with sundappled eyelids
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i keep your smiles
in a box by my pillow
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simpleton sunsets sidle by
washing cold on amber eyes
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this pillow is stained with her story
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sing to me like snow
cradling children in new dreams
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mama wrung her hands
drippin sweet water / down the drain
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with soil he turned himself
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georgia o'keefe
told me all her / dirty little secrets
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scattering a snow
of torn-to-shreds
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and place my apology
in his dirt brown palm
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truth and temperance
in the meekest moment
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