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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Monday, August 18, 2008

This is My Rifle

those are the words that start
i should know, i was there
like adjacent souls of nonbelievers
all they can do is twitch in their shoes
foolish of unreleased summer
all night in the kitchen problem plays
under worried paper lodges
burning the best parts of the moon
when a year on the farm team
apply those fifty storytellers
to our filial connection with the stars
that are serious students of vanities
reach summits in the cabinless present
tense with jackets on cool tile floors

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