Sunday, September 9, 2012

From Bell-Y To Dai-Ly Beauty


google.com image






Eight rocks in a circle
makes nine shapes.
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Everyone carries a bell-y
which needs to be filled dai-ly.
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Like a spill of ink below the white beret,
Her hair is the swell of dark water,
Seventeen, on her own,
She casts a shadow
in every man's longings.


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