A poem is a machine for making

sense, the way a dog
is a machine for barking.
And just so, there are side effects:
the mess that takes you by surprise
(the wondering when did that happen?)
the licking your face
when you’re trying to sleep
and unless you take precautions
always more poems.

The rest of the family - 146828640_463b12e9af_z

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the walk at last

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come along come come come

that is fine
no no need for that and no time

for the need to account for the world is a pressing need

for instance that squirrel

must be put into her proper slot SHARP! SHARP! SHARP! SHARP!

ah

the wellfed mastiff was
here
at this
shrub
since the rain stopped
well well we will see about that
now
all done
come along shall we here is a street for us to walk along I’ll show you the way
this way
this way
this
a moment
I’m sure there’s something
here
all right
let us keep on
come along?
there that’s fine

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