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Geraldine Monk |
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POPPY HEADS.
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POPPY
HEADS. I yawn up the edge of my pond - mulling of imperial leather. The lettuce eaters rob aquatic glad cake. I dream reams on the edge pond – it is always too late with me: a second behind the moment I should be asleep is never. I sob on the edge of my pond - be careful what you wish for runny eggs on sunny bread bore horny thorn with sundunce. I marvel on the edge of my pond - a door is not a feather for every wind to blow. A misheard word un heard in under-be the-soughs. I quake at the edge of my pond - the terribly nice age iced. Eye motes gathered at full loon. Birds flew blightfully. I slept on the edge of my pond - storm grew attitude with accent. Diva weeping on a shrinking violent hymnal. I shared the edge of my pond - stuff the stock markets my socks are constant odds. To make a pair buy three. Hump unwedded earth with poking toe. I dredge the edge of my pond – not much there – in reality. My shadow on a shadowland – we wobble in beautiful arms of bluff blinds.
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