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Archive for November, 2008

In my attic of childhood playthings
recollection hangs on a rainbow
wiping away the blown up bridge
re-building it with bright new stones
imagination coaxes the river
under the bridge
and up the mountainside.

three dun doves fly overhead
belching bubbles
into clouds puffing steam

the bridge is made of chewing gum
the mountain of camembert cheese
market stalls made of liquorice sticks
bulge with pumpkins and pomegranates
a dog is howls for a physician

three dun doves fall to the ground
shuffle on prelates’ paunches
their legs splayed out like skis.

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