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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Monday, January 01, 2007


what lucky number
of falling amnesiacs
thirty-two years of pages
lights brightly the boards
burn through theories
resolve in his own division
this call is right instruction
with single barreled steps
nicknamed in the familiar
only downloaded elephant parts
done over in this wives tale
for pasts that we measure
lost syllables of first thoughts
this is the best road we find


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