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Limbs (Free verse) by Dovina

Live oak limbs— Crooked, unorganized. Lightning bolt— Jagged, as if lost going home. Never linear for long, Deluded by fluff, Wanderers on whims. Built in an instant Or century, Like me, The easiest shape.

zodiac 11-Dec-04/6:06 AM
Reading this comment, I wondered briefly how you might respond to the suggestion that the reason your poems can go in so many 'directions' is that they utterly fail to say anything at all coherently.

My guess is, "Poot".




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