
MISREAD
You’ll find her in the unlettered pages
Of books ventured and unread
Split in half at the seam
And down the spine
Placed on the corner
of partly vacant shelves
Low but obscure
And within reach
With quivering voice
And a shivering whisper
She speaks of being unopened
and misunderstood
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Bed Of Flowers
Resided on my abdomenRested like lumberIn a slothful crusadeAbout my enamour
Worn
She was a museIn the hands of thoseWho handled her poorly
THE TASTE OF ENDLESS FRUIT
Oh sweet sugarMay I dance with you in silenceWithout rhythm and soundBut with the lashing of s
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