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By shelves of my Fathers shed I wept (Free verse) by Caducus
Through a half creosoted door I left their world ajar. Noone saw the anvil swallow me as i painted swastikas on tailfins. I was born like woodshavings and Jesus, was sick of that smell. My Dad was born from dust, so i swept remnants of balsa into the light that ended on his crooked shelves. I heard the other world speak kindly yet ill of him, inaccurate and lazy words from mouths filled with sandwiches quartered for good impressions. In moth dead flicker I whispered goodbye, launched the last Henkel into his garden of strickened bouquets. I was five again me again, and Jesus was the chisel of my eyes, his eyes. Inspired by Paolo Cuehlo


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Arithmetic Mean: 10.0
Weighted score: 5.237129
Overall Rank: 4159
Posted: November 28, 2007 3:27 PM PST; Last modified: November 28, 2007 3:30 PM PST
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