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a book elegantly bound

Sunday, April 5, 2009

fractured star

Posted by Megan

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poetry & prose

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Megan




"If your life is burning well,
poetry is just the ash"
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I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)