Jon Doe

Many Farms - Poem by Jon Doe

Not ever, not ever more than
now: - shift bottles!

Act. II
Spoken: Be quiet! (Seize)
Whatever you do, scurry!
leave no room
of background step,
And cry out, cry out!
-the still-life, my goodness-
Then leave with out a sound.
Do not struggle.
Speaks: biding dwells,
For once petted,
and twice scattering to sand,
my dread needs quenching lust (press)
Please my regards!
My music.
Said: fin! I see to the worlds.
As your eyes. Credits.
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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010

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