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Rhetoric Of Errors

Salt Hon, it's my life - simply a dumb stutter,
not a CD of toe-tapping metal hits. It's
true I've kind of scribbled something on history's

dog-eared flyleaves, without giving a shit
about whether one can bring forth new sparks
from there. I know I can't ever stop the water's

flow, its angry rush, over sands of that much-
envied immortality. Things disappear

just like ping-pong balls through this city's
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Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: love and life,love
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