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Saturday, December 8, 2007

Rhymes

I make my home out of rocks and boulders so I can adapt me genes to the rough surface of the earth/
texture not always round or always curved/
sometimes the tangent lines to my mind not perpendicular to my height/
time flows in irregular patterns/
just checked the warped box in the ice/
the rhyme's losing flavor/
no longer nice/
somebody add soy sauce to the rice...

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