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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in turning a phrase on my tongue

#3

Not really a nursery rhyme
the daze of past,
the sun unsettling
mothers nags
and nasty meddling

the moop of now
the moon is glowing
fathers sighs
and sweet unknowing

the roar of later
the sun returns
the son rejoices
and then he burns.
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