Monday, January 12, 2009
An Orlop
Up from the orlop I climb to the wheelhouse and I do this trek each day, but only in my mind. High seas of dismay keep me shackled, the key lays on the floor next to me and still I keep myself bound! Shackles, ghostly chains, yet real! Choka (Japanese for long poem) Syllable count: 5,7, 5, 7, 5, 7,...
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O for a Twinge
CAN excruciating pain SLIP through the barriers OF CONSCIOUSNESS, back and forth BACK AND FORTH Like a breeze that BARELY brushes THE LEAVES? Can it?
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