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Board Administrator Username: mjm
Post Number: 4604 Registered: 11-1998
| Posted on Friday, July 22, 2005 - 10:15 pm: |
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Honorable Mention Primary Colors Paul Lyons Though I have stood here for a week or more, felt mid-November breach my union suit seeking cuffs and placket, red cheeks and blue fingers are not enough to move me on. I have seen this house in better state and station. My head has fallen to my chest with the vigil, my joints and joists and beams no longer true. I don’t believe that I could lift my heels if I tried, my boots grown slightly yellow, rooted in the mud that rises. My skin, bald, brought tight against the bone, grows slightly yellow. My belly swells and pulls against the earth that closes in upon the seams and stitches, loosens my knotted laces and fills my cuffs to overflowing, rises until at last my ears alone remain to note a platter and splatter and splutter of drops that slowly strip the clapboards bare.
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