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Tuesday, May 20, 2003

The Good Morrow

I beg to dream utopian dissension
Distant pledges like towered vanity
Begin this self-portrait, Sunday, May 11,
Openly or not so to you, who think me hid
‘Mongst copper and route 2, never to return
Ignorant of my own successes even,
Wistful, wishful, same thing to think it truest.

At indifference, yellow, color early evening
Wasteful, that’s a word, tongues treble at it,
Fall apart at mere think. Out of sight heart
Aggrieve tempest raunch the longest yard
Live your stable at most five dollars to the door.
Live as if the money meant some tone black.
Live as granted tumble to reach cowl.

Meager tenancy, morbid jealous spy,
Ant hills have nothing hid among strangers.
Whenever the truth gets in the way think
While driving, always think instead of paying
Whole dollar forms of light, inches beyond the
Intended scope of manner. I’m here now,
Let’s pray together and rain on parades.

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