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Poem: Lets dance

under my tumour un-genius
copied intent brain are turqouise scoops
stolen pebbles and ruby gems mixed with
people from your history
not my own schooling of
un-thought-of plagiarized
stolen hot thieved lifted
spaces surrounded by poetic words
hauled away in a green gray half ton
pick-em up truck
 
occupy space,
this damned time is a piston
wearing in the bore
over lubricated
up under
 
in celebration of demon smelling ending
let’s dance!

(2015)

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