the random white car-jack
steam-loaded apple-smack
the sound that gets the garage door up
and lays the children down
viscous
ever chilled with
vibrant
hand soap colored
shroud
love with vital hand grenade
launched dream time into mind
moon as earth and
grey as diry
men dig trenches so
clay won't hurt
eyes won't move anymore
and love is all i'm for
strong torn every part
of
storm haze twizz-ted lot
seeing pictures of
a barn
much hay and straw
and numbers on why
my penmanship
may start to drift
funny thought how
brought to now the image of
the scribbled words
written me sent by
my grand aunt:
my hand won't do what
i tell it to do...what i want it to.
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