Saturday, 8 February 2014

Laura May Be As Single As One Liveing Free To Dive

Show Me The Reasons For Laurel'd Posture,
As You Plant Your Avoided Nearness InTo The Fog,
With Spells Encased In Ice Cubes And Then InTo A Checker'd Plateau,
Loosely With The Office Dependance For Manager Cabinets And Wooded Panels,
With Those High CheekBones To An Alligator's Green Misery,
Thumping With A Blight Of Locusts For A Chance Of Precepitation...
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GrassHopper Lessons For The Indian Summer,
Wishing AWay The Grammer School Flunky...
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I Only Think To Be... What I Am... Only Being As I Be...
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Oh, If I Could Approach At Will To Thy Wrinkled Ear,
In Thy Final Blinks AWay From The Fadeing Of Grey UpOn Black,
To See The Distant Velvet OnTo Ye... A Traveller WithIn A Block-Book'd Caravan,
Past The Silk Ribbons And Bushels Of Ready'd Wheat At Thy Feeding InTo Anxiety,
Ye Had The Charm To Call Upon A Life OnTo Tears...
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InTo The Giver Of Secrets,
Thatching Not One Straw For Your Bohemian Door Wedge,
Selling The Blank Stare As Avatar... A Mystic In A Cardigan,
With A Face To Tilt The Sea From Its Salt...
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But First Ye Need Only To Scry InTo Thy Pond For Ripples,
For The Heavyest Of Stones To Skip A Beatened Path...
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Why... For WithOut That To Bring The Cobbler,
To Your Stone... Perhaps... To Thy Fullest...
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As I Take My Leave,
As Ye Would Take Thy Fill.












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