I bleed champagne poetry,
am softer than brother bug –
almost corduroy –
born to father, dark,
to glass women,
we surround them,
bring liquid fevers, haunt
bluegrass rhythm growler.
How would you fool eternity?
(Such are the offerings of Magnetic Poetry online.)
Nice, VJ.
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Thanks
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No way of fooling eternity. All one can do is acquiesce and find one’s own way.
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So true. Thanks, Olga.
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