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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Dregs & Other Unreadables

after the landmine

i do not sit cross-legged
when the grass is tall
and the smell of summer
is whisping through the fireflies

or after the first snow
plays hide-n-seek
between the brown dead blades

i do not sit cross-legged
with your chestnut hair
splayed wreckless on my lap

or after you tell me
i don't love you
anymore.
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