Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Accords Of Our Hollowed Earth Comments

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Juvenile roses in my throat as always,
Feet kicking as they swing over a graveyard of paramours:
The light douse as if in a funeral of
Merry go rounds, and there is no need to save
...
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Robert Rorabeck
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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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