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Quiet's Poems
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Quiet Man Cometh
We're all mad here.
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33
"Expectantly"
Some years ago
I wrote a poem
about a puppy, and
a ladle,
and a pot of soup.
I'm quite afraid
I lost it;
why the puppy
still give me looks.
MH
"Exercises in Frustration"
Weight-bearing hands
Ask for crushing grip;
For something to crumble
Between their knuckles.
Weightlessness bearing
Down on empty palms,
Flexing against nothing.
MH
Tea?
Posted 12-13-2015, 06:32 PM