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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Untied States

this may not be fiction
with outpatients in captaincy
this private dick is suspect
& space is just silent
on an occultist typewriter
how can our scantrons pencil
when you are children of bar riots
now ambassadors of good will
witch doctors see three humors
that have formalities in the air
and speak in backwards names
alchemies that magazines don’t print
what does deductive reasoning
say of all our lost socks?


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