Open Poetry #41 |
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Saturday Away |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
Saturday came, As the tires went flat, With the brush of her Wrist sleeping on the Seeds of his face. Between the river hour, On top of their toiled skin, They lay with their Folded eyes, their layered hair, Open under the blankets wrap. |
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© Copyright 2007 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
This is a fascinating write, almost sparse in word usage but painting such a vivid picture. a good commitee can decimate communication. |
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