Is It Poetry (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)
just more of the same
Blind right now in this is your only eye.
Filled so full that only the ring is seen.
Thoughs run off too deep is the sea.
A muffin that blinks often cream cheese.
Scanily clad where I'm glad.
Creases folds dirty linnen take my hand,
there it is where it is would you know.
But the sweat each dropp that runs off from it
catches the sand deeper still what I am.
Nurse please help me up I can't see.
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