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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in But April brought rain

In passing

He has changed me
to the fondness of him

I have his hands
at midnight
crouched in the whisper
that betrays my voice

He grits his teeth
against the bone
I borrowed of him

holding my eyes
in the burden of light
where intrusive shadows
dream aloud

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