A Moon Worn As A Shell
A down-on-his-luck jazz pianist wanders through dim alleyways.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Microglacial
Chin tucked in rest against the chest
White rime budding with each slow breath
On the inner frame of the winter nest
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it took me til now to get here
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he walks with a cane but he's able a liar across the table he's silent when he's quiet he's weaved another fable.
it took me til now to get here
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