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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Monday, April 17, 2006

Separate

here again in collections
unseen and permissionless
how often names repeat
& casts a screwball comedy
loathsome to other visitations
message this a secret lover
that weaves in text
like memorial fences
shakes this strange rain
that we yearly fly into
faith or its opposite voice
and that’s not even our decision
old we begin to favor chairs
it’s light at good times of day

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