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jwrdavies
These are, for the most part, poems.
Thursday, 22 December 2011
necks
separate,
a severance,
the severity,
has elegance,
I dare not look,
at the thing that hangs,
with its neck,
it bled below,
and above,
are row after row,
so on the cycle goes,
the hanging of the guinea fowl
the limp and lifeless doe.
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caught
necks
never
mess
http://inc-zine.blogspot.com/
winter worn
there
...
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JWRDavies
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