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The Lost World

I. Children's Arms

On my way home I pass a cameraman
On a platform on the bumper of a car
Inside which, rolling and plunging, a comedian
Is working; on one white lot I see a star
Stumble to her igloo through the howling gale
Of the wind machines. On Melrose a dinosaur
And pterodactyl, with their immense pale
Papier-mâché smiles, look over the fence

Of The Lost World.
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Monday, February 9, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: narrative
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Radovan 18 December 2020

Such a beautiful and moving piece of storytelling.

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