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The first year was like icing. Then the cake started to show through …

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How many people came and stayed a certain time,Uttered light or dark speech that became part of youLike light behind windblown fog and sandFiltered an...more

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I'm heading for a clean-named placelike Wisconsin, and mad as a jack-o'-lantern, will get therewithout help and nosy proclivities.

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The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be.