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Raising the nap (Free verse) by howl
His teas in a barrow
Loaded on one wheel like sod,
He coughs as he pushes it forward.
It is early morning
But he is a long way from the market
And slow as the creep
Of soil. It is raining,
He places a tea towel on his barrow
And drives on scattering
The robins and wrens.
He is the small man with an Eskimo lung
And it is already afternoon
Before he pitches up and drops
His hat and mumbles and smiles
And makes enough for a woollen fleece
By the end of it.
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Arithmetic Mean: 5.25
Weighted score: 5.029801
Overall Rank: 7316
Posted: November 26, 2006 2:10 PM PST; Last modified: November 26, 2006 2:10 PM PST
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