Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof

Narrow Roads To The North

In Bob Folder on February 2, 2009 at 9:21 pm

I have no choice but to invent you
a blanket for the bindlestiff alone
rye-crisp with a hint of the flu
singing in the mess-kit of my bone
spin off the transducer, Pietro,
crank up the metallurgical day
and remind me why it snows
when the large sound comes my way
the tiny rumble and squeak off the dry chair
is no surprise when you drive there.

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