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jerome moore


Needle


Where you going?
I said
I am going downtown to throw the needle
at the other sharpshooters in this town
Mr. CIA man is my sponsor
cattle calls and methane gas escaping into the ozone
books seeing the press, and the doors open.
one of us hit and bleeding crying out in perestroika in the cold cobbled street
another takes the bait, and we all tear up.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 02, 2014
Edited: Thursday, April 03, 2014

Topic of this poem: art


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