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The lions leap through rings. Bullets bought and news is warped,. They dance on puppet strings. The cogs are oiled, the wheel turns,. The greasy hand glides on. Until their manes are shorn. De-maned and maimed the lions squirm,. Their roars are whispered now. Prison zoo bars soar from the ground. The cats forget how to prowl. Meanwhile the ringmaster glows and gleams and gloats,. In a grotesque, stylish lion coat.
Once Again I Met Her. Count your weight and count your wage. Count your dates and count your age. Count your wins and count your loss. Count your sex and count the sand. Count the stars up in the sky. Count the marks you get on tests. This poem could change your life.
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Last Sunday I spent all day making a dress for Cherry. After I bought Violet her birthday dress from Wild Things Dresses.