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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Lost along the weigh

Small Rejections of Faith on Christmas Day

what of the soul of the black cat
that ran under my feet
and died in the chasm where I tripped

is that love?

what of the soul of the mosquito
that exploded with my blood
when is ipped too much of me

Is that need

what of the lion sleeping
under the lush baobab
when his mates hunt

Is that want?

What of me, I ask,
what of me?

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