A guru groans,
?Äúplop the root of all evil
into the catchall as you leave
then unwrap the self-existing,
it?Äôs lightsinking time. Words
hang wormishly in your disposition,
puckered, weak-voiced,
around the pip of your brain
like tadpoles merging into frogs.?Äù
Money-Giving Therapy
July 19th, 2007 by christopher barnes · No Comments
Tags: Features · Issue 28 · Poem of the Day

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