a poem for today, 5 December 2012

a poem for today, 5 December 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of eight sentences and its image]

Music is the diarrhea of the intellect.
You were soft and round like a dumpling.
Paint a picture for us.
This seems like a silly piece to create a forgery of given the other options out there, however, I have seen enough silly things by now to doubt it's authenticity.
You promised.
The passages of centuries are often required to acquaint more slowly evolving creatures with such prerequisite states and conditions.
Probably good if you're renting, landlord doesn't care, and you know what you're doing electrically.

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