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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Dregs & Other Unreadables

strolling in the woods

every sapling growing in
the forest by the sea
reaches up to heaven
as if each one was me

every saplying unrooted then
tossed into a pile
rotting in the fires
down to hell with my smile

every acorn rolling lands
at the bottom of the hill
i can feel me rolling and
i wonder if i always will
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