Post now or die -
trying to weely, weely, lack insight - into the disease of speaking, laughing so loud the rafters sing late at night, when no one but you. See, the buttons push, or respond, how nice, quaint, cultured the pearls dress to impress black words, syllabic, Russian immigrants. It's mostly you and a few other copy artists who notice to glass, the copyrights laws that are clearly white, read, for who would care of posting lost the race? It's nearly over for, well, never mind the midpoint that demands retracing steps. And you ask how to interpret? Free you weely, weely will be behind the counter when candy will approach, no crash into your cart - it must be purchased. The idea of placing it - of tasting a little wax mixed in for good measure does sound like a million to one that a service will deliver, handily. At this point you're past deadline, slower than fog, clouding drips that chirp for delight. © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
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December 2018
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