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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Dregs & Other Unreadables

gentle

The storm rolled in from the south
raged with mighty winds
and the livid lightning
of my youth

I found her body
beneath the weary limbs
of the oak we hung
the tire swing from

her eyes were closed
and her hands folded
over her breast

but her hair was wild
still.
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