My Type

March 6, 2012

I may make a little make-believe

I bet when I typeset my type;

chisel gray poems for the foreign to read.

I stand by the stories I tell the wife.

On the stand, I’ll perjure myself to myself.

But then there’s a fierce fire, uncontrolled,

when I hear, ” he’s a liar, so I’m told”

.

.

.

.                                                                                            (ago)

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