Thursday, August 2, 2007


here I am in Washington the sun is brave
the streets hot near non-silence fails to bother
I walk suited famished by selection
and the rinds curb shares of energy
the liberties are slim
the quiet is desired
I think I hear even the violets
I tried once to get it I should have
written to my senator three months ago
is any ecstasy quite like this anymore
no wonder dying is an art

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