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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Time Lies

when you walk with purpose
the ritual empty space is seated alone
no chances but in the second third
it adds up to real money
enough for the food chain
to voodoo down in trickled seeds
that grow the last damnations
hope we meet in the first light
strange to be models of ambition
with ambivalent eyes cast on
prizeless games that alice made
legitimate in what were too few trips
it’s awkward, back, adolescent & dances
this is a giant person, do not bother

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