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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Bob’s Your Uncle

it’s the delusion that worries
our instant calendar shares
that hopes in distance
water is the ultimate act
brooms its way over us
in a surround of theater
that is not for everyone
secret tapping monologues
this is a declaration of violence
this nutshell over the fence
& this is a blind study
that could answer or question
the last raise of an arm
a cause that carves on walls

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