its life in black and white
fuzzy sounds and pictures
a dead poet
a reverberating voice
of whiskey and broken mirrors
and horse races
the imagined sound of a typewriter
to make words of
the wordless
and thoughts of
the thougts
or the thoughtless
its a monotonous old voice
that is wrinkled in sound
that gives you
words
or words enough
Monday, September 17, 2007
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