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Rain In A Rusty Bucket

It's what makes the bucket Rusty... and by the way, if you see Rusty tell her to write.

Friday, March 31, 2006

My New Poetry Blog


Transitional with vision
Will your transmission
feel incisions? the affect
of its decisions? pretending
that the wisdom isn't real?

Stuck upon the out rocks
Quite beyond the old docks
Telling time with bullet clocks
And classing men as man.

Odd these friends we have gathered together.
Better their endings forever remembered.
True to their standards of family and tender,
Creator, Constructor, Builder, Inventer.

[sure to be edited as I've just made it up]
(each stanza has it's own metre)


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