Nary, nary nor, the other one's the snore.
It's been said you'll want to stay on shore to make or break, well the dairy will take no more of cream or other liquids, lying about I thought you were there for sleep, for schlepping? And it's not the other, nor, the beginning or tortured lines, they lie near dead or dying to sleep, yet again, you missed the last publication date, and trying to fake a calving incident, perchance the mother would not notice the scoundrel. Taking liberties with milk are you, not really the best at shepherding old ladies, across streets paved with rain? Or, break into dance when nothing much fits inside your head, often as the next curb hits you, slaps upside a scraper, a misnomer. Daring do is not the same as neither, nor is it the last we'll see of wells, so deep, so lack a modifier that it will simply pounce perchance to make petrified wood, wobbly in prose profound, perfectly suited, the suit is big, is something, but surely not a bore. © 2015 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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